Shattered
by rogueptoridactyl
Summary: When Draco Malfoy goes missing, Hermione Granger is the only one willing to investigate. She finds things that change her mind about Draco, but will she be able to find him? Compliant with the books except for the Epilogue.
1. Missing

Chapter 1

A loud crash made me yelp as well as draw my wand unconsciously. I didn't sense anyone in my apartment, but I didn't lower it anyway. Quietly stalking into the bedroom I found the culprit: a mirror I had precariously hung on the wall the night before.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I examined the damage. The frame was intact, and none of the glass had fallen out, but a web of fractures spread across the cool surface. A million angles and pieces of my face looked back at me. Entirely too much curly hair was reflected in the outer portions, giving me something to chuckle about.

I could've fixed the mirror with a simple spell, but something stopped me. This break felt like a miracle, and I felt like it deserved to be appreciated.

Remembering my tasks for the day, I carefully put the mirror in my closet, making a mental note to buy a new one later. I got out of the apartment in remarkable time considering that roughly seventy percent of my possessions were still in boxes.

I apparated to an alleyway near the entry to the Ministry for Magic, gearing myself up for the day. It was a day of beginnings, which usually also meant that it would be a day of stress. I did my best to quell my nerves before brushing off my robes and flushing myself to work.

The Ministry was bustling, seemingly more so than usual. That may have been due to my anxiety though. My legs carried me to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for my temporary placement. Apparently I was needed for a special assignment that they would fill me in on today. It sounded serious, and they were short-staffed because Ronald was on holiday for- well, he was on holiday.

Harry looked up from his paperwork when I entered. "Hermione. You look great in auror robes. How are you doing?"

I embraced him back, doing my best to smile serenely. "I'm fine, Harry."

Behind his glasses, Harry peered at me with his piercing green eyes. "If you ever need to talk `Mione just let me know."

I nodded. "I know where to find you. Now what is this secret mission that I was supposedly hand-picked for?"

Clearing his throat, Harry handed me a file. "We've done our best to round up all of the Death Eaters and assorted Voldemort supporters, but as time goes on it seems like there are more and more extremists we didn't know were affiliated with them. They've started targeting people who changed sides in the war, double agents, you know the like."

Flipping through the file I found Harry's information confirmed, as well as the statistics on several injuries and deaths that hadn't been escapable.

I shivered a bit when I glanced at the photographs, gruesome scenes all around. Snapping the file shut, I met Harry's eyes. "And where do I come in?"

Harry pushed up his glasses. "We think we know who their next target is, and we need someone to help them disappear into the Muggle world until we can neutralize the threat." He scowled a moment, reminding me that he had been opposed to my involvement from the beginning. I gave him credit for keeping his concerns to himself though.

"After hearing Auror Potter's account of how you kept the three most wanted criminals of the time hidden for so long we knew you were the perfect person for the job," a deep voice said. It belonged to the new head of Magical Law Enforcement, a serious man named G. Thaxton. No one could get him to reveal what the G. stood for. When we were still on speaking terms, Ronald theorized that it was short for Gertrude.

Thaxton was an older man who had come out of retirement for this job once Kingsley Shacklebolt was elected Minister for Magic. Even the wrinkles generally called smile lines oozed serious professionalism on Thaxton.

"Miss Granger, G. Thaxton," he said as an introduction, sticking out his hand. He firmly grasped my hand and pumped it up and down. "That was originally the plan, but it must be changed. Word just came in that the target has gone missing."

"Missing?" Harry and I chorused.

"A tragedy, but as he is probably dead there is nothing to be done. Miss Granger, we appreciate-"

"You don't know if this person is dead?" I interrupted. "You need to find him!"

"Miss Granger, we can't weaken our forces for a single man. Not even Draco Malfoy can justify abandoning the safety of the people," Thaxton said flatly.

I deliberated a moment. Draco Malfoy. I had been expecting to help a stranger during this assignment. Now I had not only a name to associate with a potential victim, but I could easily picture a face. I knew his mother, his girlfriend. I worked closely with his best friend. I personally knew people who would give their lives for his. This didn't mean that I liked Malfoy, but I would want someone to look for me.

Meeting Thaxton's eyes, I said, "So don't weaken your forces. I've already been given leave for this assignment. Let me find Malfoy." I didn't need to look back to see that Harry was already nodding in agreement.

Thaxton narrowed his eyes at me. "And what makes you think you'll be able to find Draco Malfoy?"

I smiled coldly. "I have my methods."

We stared at each other, tension palpable until Thaxton sniffed. "Fine, Miss Granger. I expect updates on your 'progress.'" With that he swept out of the room.

The second that the door clicked shut, Harry burst out laughing. "I've never seen Thaxton so unsettled."

"Did you know that Malfoy was the target?" I asked.

"They wouldn't tell me. I think they were afraid that we would refuse to help if we knew," Harry said.

"They they don't know either of us very well," I said with a small smile.

He nodded in agreement. "I'll help you however I can. Just let me know what you need."

"With the best auror on my side I'll find Malfoy in no time. But other than Ronald, how many aurors are out right now?" I asked curiously.

"Graves and Delaney are out with Dragon Pox. The Department is betting on whether or not they gave it to each other while snogging, Mahoney went back to Ireland to see her dying aunt, and the Walters are our only married pair, and they just had a daughter."

I whistled. "You are missing quite a few. Are we sure they're not all trying to escape Thaxton?"

Harry snickered while I flipped through the file once more. Still reading, I asked, "How are things going with Ginny?"

His face predictably turned red. "F-fine. Fine."

Rolling my eyes, I fixed them on Harry.

Blushing even more, he said, "I've been looking at rings."

I beamed genuinely for the first time in what felt like months. "That's excellent Harry, really excellent."

"Just don't tell anyone," he begged. "If any of her brothers find out before I talk to her and her parents she'll kill me."

"Yeah," I nodded. "Ginny would gut you."

Silence stretched between the two of us until I asked, "Surely they'll give me what information they have on his disappearance, right?"

Harry nodded, his seriousness returning. "You're essentially a temporary Auror, so you'll get all the tools and information we have on the case."

"Perfect."


	2. The Malfoys

Chapter 2: The Malfoys

I was debriefed on all the information that the Department had, and honestly it wasn't much. They also gave me a brief lesson on potential methods of finding a missing person. It was actually a rather pathetic lesson. It seemed remarkably easy to disappear in the eyes of the Ministry, which was… interesting.

The file on Malfoy's disappearance was abysmal. The people who had "investigated" the event had barely even entered the room he had last been seen in.

After collecting what information I could from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, I went to Harry to get some pointers that would actually be useful. With a head swimming in half-baked theories and ideas I went home, where my life was still packed in boxes cluttering the floor.

Knee-deep in boxes, I sighed. I was already more than exhausted. I had just moved into a Muggle apartment building, so I was determined not to use magic as much as possible, but enough was enough. Locking the door and closing the blinds, I pulled out my wand.

In minutes everything was unpacked, and I even had the kettle on, my favorite tea waiting to be brewed. My apartment was cheerey, decorated with various framed pictures, and my potted plants (both for aesthetic and potions). I checked my bookcase for a second time to make sure my books were organized correctly.

Nodding in satisfaction, I moved to the kitchen when the kettle whistled. Tea was exactly what I needed to begin puzzling over the disappearance of Draco Malfoy.

I studied everything I could think of until the late hours of the night; the case file, Muggle investigation methods, wizard investigation methods… I made plans to assemble several tracking potions and charms tomorrow.

And so I spent my second night in my new apartment falling asleep slumped over my desk, the light still on.

The next morning I was woken by sunlight streaming onto the desk… and directly into my face. My half-full cup of tea was sitting on the desk, almost standing as an accusation. I hadn't gotten so engrossed in a project to this degree since my Hogwarts days.

Rubbing sleep from my eyes I trooped to the bathroom to make myself presentable for the day.

With my curls mostly managed, it only took me a few moments to don some respectable robes and apparate to my destination: Malfoy Manor. Or rather, I apparated to the closest area possible and began walking. The Malfoys didn't joke around with their wards.

Once the foreboding black manor came into view, I felt sick. Every muscle in my body screamed for me to stop walking and _run_ in the other direction. It had been roughly six years since I had last set eyes on Malfoy Manor, since Voldemort had met his end.

Admittedly, since then I had rarely thought about any member of the Malfoy family. There was the occasional article that would mention Draco in the _Prophet_ , and I had seen evidence of some charitable donations in the name of one Malfoy or the other.

Now I found the same _Prophet_ journalists that had hounded me on and off through the years crowding around the gate, each shouting their own questions about Draco. As I watched the journalists shoving and telling over each other, my anger grew. I wanted nothing more than to hex each and every one of them.

I controlled myself and instead cast a silencing charm over them. With wide eyes and gaping mouths they turned to me.

"Where Draco Malfoy is and what he is doing is confidential Ministry information," I said in a frosty voice. "I would suggest all of you leave with only that information, lest you become suspect."

A few attempted to protest, but when I met them with an icy glare, they scurried away like mice.

As soon as the last reporter fled, the heavy gate creaked open. None other than Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy stood there.

Lucius was not the formidable figure he had once been, or perhaps he just didn't terrify me anymore. That aside, I almost retched when the manor fully came into view.

"Come in dear," Narcissa said, ushering me in. "Come in before the next wave of reporters come."

I swallowed, but my shaking legs followed the Malfoys into their house.

Narcissa directed me to a parlour far away from the room of my nightmares, although it looked too much like the rest of the Manor.

My lips tightened when a house-elf brought me tea and refreshments, but that was a battle for another day. A social justice rampage was the last thing I needed to hoist upon a couple worried about their missing son.

Lucius was the one to break the silence with his frosty voice. "What brings you here, Miss Granger?"

Sitting a little straighter, I met his eyes. "I was chosen to help Draco go into hiding initially. In light of his disappearance, I convinced the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to allow me to search for him."

Narcissa had to fight for her composure. "Did you know that Draco was the person you would be protecting?"

"Not until yesterday," I said truthfully. "Yesterday was when I was scheduled to aid him to go into hiding. The Department Head was eventually persuaded to allow me to search for Draco."

Silence stretched between the three of us until Lucius asked, "Why? I know fully that you must view our family as bigoted monsters, and there is certainly no love lost between you and my son, Miss Granger. Why would the war heroine that was tortured in this very house fight to find my son?"

I breathed deeply, attempting to find an answer to the questions I had posed to myself the day before. "Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, I have seen too much fighting and war, and it is past time all of it was put behind us. None of us came out of the war unaffected and because of that we need to protect each other, regardless of the past. I am going to search for Draco the same way that I hope someone would search for me."

Now Narcissa did start crying. "Please find him, Miss Granger. I can't lose my son to Death Eaters."

Lucius' face was impassive, but his eyes echoed his wife. After an awkward pause, I asked, "Do you mind if I take a look at Draco's room and maybe a few other places around the manor?"

"Look as you wish. Merlin knows that those Aurors were completely useless when they searched," Lucius said flippantly, which I loosely interpreted as his form of thanks. He swept out of the room with what I had mentally dubbed as the Malfoy flare. Upon both entering and exiting a room, it seemed that all Malfoys had that way of pivoting through the doorway in just the right way so that their roves flipped out with the perfect dramatic effect.

With her husband out of the room, Narcissa broke down finally and wept quietly. "Thank you. Thank you."


	3. The Manor

Chapter 3:The Manor

Once Narcissa collected herself, she showed me the way to Draco's room. Part of em hesitated at the door. Going in to Draco Malfoy's bedroom felt like an insight into a mind that years ago I would've described as twisted.

I had to focus solely on the task at hand or my mind dredged up Bellatrix Lestrange. She would haunt me until the end of my days, I was sure.

Draco Malfoy's room was remarkably clean for any male's or at least it was clean compared to Harry's, and especially Ronald's. But that was as far as I would let that train of thought go.

"We haven't touched anything in the room," Narcissa said, managing to speak over his emotions. "Let us know if you need anything more."

I nodded at the overwrought mother, letting her slip away with dignity. My own emotions were running amok as Narcissa left with a quieter version of the Malfoy flare.

Once my thoughts and emotions were a little more clear, I turned to Malfoy's room in earnest, or Draco's room, rather. It felt wrong to call him Malfoy in his family home.

Draco's room was unusually tidy, but that could easily be attributed to the Malfoy House Elves rather than Draco's personal habits. His room looked more like something out of a magazine than an actual dwelling. The decor was largely black and white with hints of green. The decorations were classy and they definitely had a Victorian influence.

A bookcase caught my eye. It was full of leather-bound tomes, but the spines were surprisingly well-worn. The book that caught my eye seemed to be the most read of the books, and the title was all too familiar: _Hogwarts, A History._

I found myself tracing the spine, then removing the book, greeting the words like old friends. I knew the introduction by heart and I even found myself mouthing the words as I read them. Once past the introduction, however, I found that the book was actually a canvas for Draco Malfoy's thoughts. All white space at the margins and even the space between the lines in some cases were filled with Draco's precise scrawl. Some of it pertained to underlined portions of the text, while others were like mini diary entries- "Goyle called me a ferret so I hexed him," or "Father heard about my Potions score, I don't want to go home."

As I flipped through the pages I saw Draco grow up in a manner of speaking. The handwriting grew slightly more refined, although there would be the occasional interjection of older Draco, as if pointing out things he hadn't noticed when he was younger.

One the page about the ceiling of the dining room, Draco's green scrawl stopped me. The passage was underlined, and Draco had written:

 _Mudblood Granger recited this word for word. How does she do that?_

However, in contrast to the green ink he usually used, Malfoy had crossed the word "Mudblood" out with black ink, and in clearly more mature writing it said:

 _I will never use that word again._

Curious, I flipped through the pages, occasionally spotting angry black splotches where various derogatory terms and insults had been inked out of existence.

On the very last page, in the white space beneath the _Afterword_ , a single line was carefully written in black ink:

 _I am not my father._

I closed the book, equally touched and unnerved at my new insights into Draco Malfoy. I considered myself a fairly open-minded person, and I had even forgiven Draco, his parents, and most Death Eaters in general, which had been a monumentally difficult thing for me. But never once did I ponder his side of the story. With all of his threats to tell his father, I assumed that Lucius doted on Draco.

Taking a moment more, I took an inventory of Draco's books, a collection that was like a small sample of my own collection at my apartment. He had some of the finest spellbooks and grimoires, as well as a good portion of wizard literature. But nothing helpful rested on the shelves.

I started to slide _Hogwarts: A History_ back onto the shelf, but something behind it stopped it. Pulling the book a Muggle travel guide of all things. It was a travel guide to one of the odder sounding American states, Idaho. I had only the briefest knowledge of Idaho. It was a fairly insignificant state, and it had something to do with potatoes.

It felt significant, significant enough that I quietly slipped the compact travel guide into my roves. One thing other departments of the Ministry could learn from the Aurors was the surplus of pockets in the robes.

The room was otherwise practically spotless, aside from a couple of scorch marks on the floor that had already been recorded. They were assumed to be curse marks from the night of the disappearance.

Getting on my hands and knees, I searched under the bed, but there was nothing, not even a solitary dust bunny. The night stand looked equally unpromising, but I caught a flash of silver. Praying that Malfoy Manor was free of spiders, I stood and gently levitated the nightstand.

The silver I had caught a flash of was Draco's family ring, a heavy wrought-iron piece sporting a vicious snake. I had never seen the ring off of Draco's finger.

After picking up the ring, I was about to put the nightstand back when I noticed the faintest shimmering of silver on the wall. When I circled the nightstand to investigate, I found that there was a piece of the nightstand cleverly carved out for a bottle containing a silver memory.

The bottle popped out with ease, and for reasons I couldn't explain I put it in the same pocket as the guidebook, but the ring I kept clutched in my hand. I searched everything I could possibly think of, but I guess my luck had been used up.

Lucius and Narcissa were hovering not too far outside the room. "Did you find anything?" Narcissa asked desperately, speaking before Lucius could.

I opened my hand, and both parents sucked in a breath to see Draco's ring. Hesitantly I said, "As this is possibly Draco's most prized possession, I think I may be able to use an ancient tracking spell that should break through any cloaking spells on Draco. But that's only if you wish it."

"Of course," Narcissa said without hesitation.

Lucius was flaring his nostrils. "I knew there was something that those Ministry buffoons missed."

"I don't know how well I'll be able to keep you updated," I said frankly. "The threat against Draco's life is still very real, but I will tell you what I can.

Narcissa tearfully led me to the door, thanking me fervently. As I stepped out I heard Lucius mutter, "What a day we live in when an impertinent young mudblood does a better job than Ministry-trained purebloods."

I stiffened, but before I could react Narcissa hissed, "Miss Granger is a lovely young witch who has accomplished more than any pureblood witch or wizard of any age. She is also the only one who has volunteered to help our son, probably because Draco used to spew insults just like you."

My legs kept moving, and I simply pretended not to have heard any of it.

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading so far, everyone. This is my first fanfic, I mainly wanted to get some of my writing out there and hopefully improve it. Let me know what you think!**


	4. Memories

Chapter 4: Memories

Thaxton had made it clear that he wanted me around the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as least as possible, so I owled a vague report to him, leaving out even the fact that I had found Malfoy's ring. I couldn't say why, but part of me simply didn't trust Thaxton.

I debated heavily with myself about what to do. I was fairly certain that Draco had left the memory in case of something like this, but there was always to niggling doubt. The last thing I wanted was to walk into one of Draco Malfoy's romantic trysts or some such nonsense.

Deliberating between the ring and the memory, I remembered the Muggle travel guide that had shocked me to the core. This book was much less used than _Hogwarts: A History._ Of all of the American states, Idaho was the last one I would have brought to mind, but maybe that was the point.

The guidebook did indeed mention potatoes, but other than a few other facts about Idaho, there wasn't a ton. This didn't seem like a place for much tourism aside from those who enjoyed winter sports like skiing and snowboarding. I couldn't picture Malfoy deigning to try either of those activities.

I found a few places where Malfoy had underlined some of the less rural areas, and I made a special note of each of them. I flipped carefully through each page one more time. I was ready to give up when I noticed an odd indentation on one of the last pages.

It was too specifically formed; that indentation felt just like the letter "d" written by a quill pressed down slightly too hard. It was too coincidental. After pondering a moment, I fetched my wand, hoping that it would actually be this easy.

I muttered the spell that George had infused into the invisible ink that he sold, and sure enough the silvery light revealed a page covered in Draco Malfoy's handwriting. The portion that I had noticed read: _I hate to admit this, but I'm scared._

Draco Malfoy had been an annoyance in my life since we had been eleven years old. We had fought on seperate sides of a war. I had seen many sides of Malfoy, arguably the worst sides. But I couldn't picture Draco Malfoy admitting he was scared. His infuriating arrogance was something I assumed was a large portion of his identity Could it really have been at least partially an act?

Starting at the beginning, I found Malfoy's writing on every page, layered over the print of the travel guide. AFter a few pages I had to put the book down; it was too personal.

My hand found the bottle containing the memory. When I'd first found the memory, part of me had felt a little apprehensive of entering Draco Malfoy's mind, any part of it, but the image of offensive words inked into nonexistence comforted me. People could change, and I just needed to acknowledge that Draco Malfoy was one of those people.

My hands found my Pensieve without a second thought. I watched, somewhat detached as the silver memory melded with the liquid.

Taking a deep breath out of habit, I submerged my face into the liquid, wet but not at the same time.

It took me a moment to gain my footing as I surveyed my surroundings as they swirled into being. I was in Diagon Alley as Draco was stalking through. It looked darker than usual, but I had read that memories were tainted by the perspective of the viewer. I had to guess that Draco was scared as he rushed through the grim, foreboding Diagon Alley.

Malfoy himself didn't give any sign of his fear. It was then that I got my first good look at Draco Malfoy for years. Sure, I had seen the occasional photograph in _The Daily Prophet_ , and there was even the occasional glimpse here or there at various charity balls, but now he was my sole focus.

Malfoy had always been a lean individual, but now he had a more toned musculature, not bulky, but he carried an aura of controlled power. His appearance was flawless as usual, from his perfectly arranged hair to his impeccable clothing, which was surprisingly enough a muggle business suit. Striding alongside him, I found him even taller than I remembered, towering over me.

There was clear tension in his silver eyes, and they flared when another set of footsteps joined him. He refused to look behind him until a deep voice growled, "Malfoy."

His eyes deadly, Malfoy paused. Slowly turning around. "Nott," he said in a silky voice deeper than I remembered.

Theodore Nott stood there, looking remarkably menacing in black robes. "Surely you've heard?"

I barely caught the flash of fear in Malfoy's eyes. Swallowing, he scoffed, "Crabbe and Goyle already tried to talk me into this. I'm not that person anymore."

Malfoy attempted to walk past Nott, but Nott grabbed his arm with an iron grip. "We have no choice, Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle joined willingly, but when I initially refused they took my wife."

I could see Malfoy swallow, but he said with false bravado, "There's no one in my life."

Nott ran his hands through his hair. "That just means they'll kill you."

"I'm sorry about your wife, Nott, but I'm not going back. I'm not a Death Eater anymore. If they kill me, they kill me, and you can tell them I said so."

Draco started walking away, but Nott called, "I don't want to kill you Malfoy, but if it comes down to you or my wife, I won't pick you."

Malfoy's blond head bobbed in acceptance. "I expect nothing less. One question though, who's in charge?"

"No one knows. He comes to us in a mask. His voice is cold, impossibly so. For your sake I hope they give up on you, Draco."

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for the responses so far, it motivates me to keep writing! I'm a sophomore in college, and midterms are crazy. Hopefully I'll be able to update a little more regularly.**


	5. Draco Speaks

Chapter 5: Draco Speaks

After Nott strode away, I expected the memory to fade. Instead the scenery transitioned into the now familiar bedroom of Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy was sitting in a black leather chair that shone in the light of the fireplace. His silver eyes were keen, looking almost exactly where I stood.

"I feel bloody mad talking like this. But here goes. I'm assuming, well, hoping really, that this was found by someone who is looking for me with good intentions. I don't know who it would be, which is rather pathetic. I know those bloody aurors won't care enough to find this, if they're bright enough to find it in the first place.

"The aurors aren't that bad. I go back to my old ways when I'm so scared." Malfoy took a deep breath, and I noticed that his hands were shaking. "It would be just my luck for Potter to find this. Whoever you are, do me a favor. Tell everyone that you're looking for my body. Say I'm dead. Please."

At his pleading, Malfoy raised his eyes just high enough that somehow they met mine. It was so uncanny that I almost didn't believe that this was a memory. We stayed like that until the memory faded away.

My face broke out of the liquid of the Pensieve almost against my own will. I carefully fished the silvery memory out of the liquid and put it back into its bottle, carefully storing it behind some of my own memories. For good measure I put a charm on the cabinet so that only I could open it.

I was still missing some key information, but I had several working theories. To begin everything I scribbled a quick note to Thaxton declaring that all evidence I had gathered pointed to Malfoy being dead. I could only hope that I was lying.

Opening the window for my owl Aristotle to fly out, I realized that my fixation on this had made me neglect feeding Crookshanks… and myself. Aristotle was good about eating food as he needed it, but I had to portion out Crookshanks' food, lest he eat three days' worth of food in a single sitting.

I was only a few hours later than usual, but Crookshanks was already yowling like a cat abused. I rushed to feed him or my rugs would be in jeopardy.

With Crookshanks satisfied, I fixed myself a simple meal of cold cereal. With my apartment arranged it was quite pleasant to sit at the table in silence, basking in the serenity of the moment.

I had nearly finished my meal when there was knock at the door. Suspicious, I tightened my silky robe around me and checked that my hair was at least somewhat managed, secured on my head with my wand.

The peephole revealed a middle-aged woman, dressed more on the posh side than not. There seemed to be someone behind her, but I couldn't see them clearly. Tightening the tie of my robe once more, I slowly opened the door. "Yes?"

The woman, who I now saw was laden with a bundt cake, smiling widely. "Hello darling, I meant to drop by when you first moved in, but my son Charles here insisted I wait a while so you could unpack and settle in."

I stifled a yawn before saying, "Would you like to come in, both of you?"

Charles and his mother trooped in. Charles had initially had a bored, almost tortured expression on his face, but now he was staring at me with interest as his mother examined my apartment with a critical eye.

"I'm Hermione Granger. It's a pleasure to meet you, Charles and Mrs…"

"Oh, silly me. I'm Carol Lewis, you can just call me Carol. We're neighbors after all," Carol said. "Is it just you, dear?"

"Me as well as my cat Crookshanks," I said, deliberately omitting Aristotle. Most muggles didn't react kindly to a pet owl. "Would either of you fancy a cup of tea?"

Charles began to say something, but his mother spoke over him. "Oh, that would be lovely. Now tell us about yourself dearie, including why such a pretty young thing like you is here in her jammies at eleven in the morning on a Saturday."

I blinked at the revelation that it was Saturday. I had really gone down the rabbit hole with my search for Malfoy. Pushing the thought aside, I smiled warmly, deciding how to best diffuse the slight disapproving tone of my neighbor. "My life's a bit boring, I'm afraid. Work is all I have time for these days. I went to work for the government after I finished university early. Since then they've been pulling me from department to department."

"Oh, a government worker!" Carol exclaimed excitedly. "What areas have you been working in?"

Placing cream and sugar on the table, I said, "I've done a bit of social work, a tad bit of scientific research, there was a stint in public safety, and now I've been specially assigned to a missing persons case."

Carol blinked. "Well I guess that explains how a young chit like yourself can afford an apartment in such a nice part of town. Is there a man in your life? I would hate for you to work away your youth."

I tried to keep any bitterness out of my smile, as she had unwittingly said the exact same words as Molly Weasley had used to "console" me after _the incident._

"I did have a fiance for a time, but he broke things off rather abruptly," I said with a thin smile.

"Oh, you poor dear," Carol said almost immediately with genuine feeling, but I didn't miss the little triumphant flash in her eyes as she discreetly glanced at her son. "As luck would have it though, I do believe you're roughly the same age as my Charles. He isn't seeing anyone at the moment."

Before I could answer, my kettle started whistling. Spared for a moment, I graciously rose to prepare the tea. All the while Carol regaled me with her life's story, the tale of a recent widow. Her husband had been a doctor, and I could tell that she missed him deeply. The circumstances of his death had been a bit mysterious, and I could tell the woman still struggled with that. As I set the three cups of tea onto the table she began talking about how successful Charles had been as an architect in Ireland when he decided to move back in with his mother to help her cope.

At her excessive praise, Charles blushed a deep scarlet. "I'm not all that fantastic, Mum."

"I've always found architecture fascinating," I said. "I think it's marvelous that you can create things like that."

Charles blushed even more deeply. "Like I said, I'm not all that great."

"Oh hush you. You've got to take pride in your achievements. I'll tell you what Hermione, you come over one night and Charles will show you all the buildings he's designed," Carol said assertively. "And we can discuss you a bit more as well. Your name sounds quite familiar, but I can't quite place it."

"That sounds lovely," I said honestly. "I'm afraid that I must cut this short, I've got an important meeting to attend in just a while."

"Oh, certainly," Carol said, hastily standing up. "But dear, I insist you come to Sunday dinner tomorrow, just in the apartment right next door. Let me also give you the number for your telly in case you need anything, a spare light bulb, a date with Charles, a cup of sugar… Anything at all, dear."

I managed to usher Carol and a spluttering Charles out after a few more minutes. Finally freed, I decided to get ready for the day. After showering and applying a minimal amount of makeup, I did my best to make my curls look like something other than a bird's nest. It was one of the best things that had come out of going to a muggle college as well as continuing my wizard studies after Hogwarts. My muggle roommates had taught me to stop fighting my curls and instead harness them. With a handful of products my hair went from a frizzy mess to some pretty fantastic curls I had to admit.

Donning a posh skirt and blouse, soon I was walking out of my apartment. As I walked down the hall I could faintly hear Carol insist, "Charles, you need to go get the post now."

"Mother, I doubt the post has come yet-" Charles began, but we were both startled when the door opened and Carol bodily shoved him outside.

Charles nearly stumbled into me. "Oh, hello again, Miss Granger."

"Hermione," I corrected gently. "And hello to you as well, Charles."

"I, uh, I'm getting the post for Mum," he said, tripping over his tongue.

I smiled at him. "I don't actually know where to collect the post. Would you mind showing me?"

Charles wasn't an unattractive man. He was actually very good-looking, in a towering, broad-shouldered way. He had a quiet confidence and clear blue eyes that contrasted his brown hair. Part of me wanted to stay and talk to him all day, but the image of a distraught Narcissa Malfoy kept me on task.

Thanking Charles and promising to be at dinner on Sunday, I stepped outside, walking for about a block before finding an empty enough alleyway to apparate from.

I would have to come up with a way to explain why I would be home one moment, but not the next. I had a feeling that my lovely neighbor would be listening intently for me to come and go. I would have to keep my emergency apparating to a minimum.

Arriving at Godric's Hollow, I was swept with a sense of peace, as per usual. Despite all I had witnessed here, this little pocket of wizarding life appealed to me more than anywhere else. I couldn't explain it.

Despite how busy I was, I did take a moment to visit the cemetery. Rather than flowers, I brought letters. One for James and Lily Potter, Remus, Tonks, and an honorary letter for Sirius, as he didn't actually have a grave.

Ron had told me that this was an unhealthy habit, as well as morbid and creepy. He had caught me laying a sealed letter on Fred's grave near the Burrow, and it had caused a fight between the two of us. Then again, back then nearly everything caused a fight between the two of us.

As always, the letter for Sirius was laid directly between the graves of his two best friends, James and Remus,

The letters were just my way of coping. I usually wrote what was going on; this time it was mainly the news that Harry was finally thinking about proposing to Ginny, and detailed updates on Teddy for Remus and Tonks. The clever little boy currently refused to change his hair from a vibrant violet, despite all the pleadings of his grandmother. I had a feeling that once Harry and Ginny were married and settled into a house of their own, Teddy would be spending a lot more time with his godfather.

"I'm working as an auror right now," I said quietly. "They're short handed since Ron is on holiday. But I have to find Draco Malfoy. His life is in danger."

A gentle breeze ruffled my hair, and somehow it helped me feel at peace. For a fleeting moment, it felt exactly like Remus had a hand on my shoulder, saying, "Finding Draco Malfoy is no match for a bright young witch like you. I know Hermione Granger, and she always finds a way."

Emboldened and not quite so alone, I turned back to Godric's Hollow with new resolve.

* * *

 **A/N: I try to keep my updates about once a week, but I only have one exam left, so I decided that a celebratory chapter is called for. I'm also just really excited for this chapter, I had fun writing it. Thanks for reading, and a special thanks to any that reviewed. It really motivates me to keep writing.**


	6. Discoveries

Chapter 6: Discoveries

On the outskirts of Godric's Hollow was a source of both my greatest joy and my greatest sorrow. After saving up religiously for my first few years of working I had been able to buy a quaint little cottage from an elderly couple that wanted to move closer to their grandchildren. Being a famous war heroine also helped get a good deal for the place. The husband was a scholar and the wife was a bit of a potions fanatic, so there was already a library and a laboratory.

The house was meant originally to be where Ron and I lived after we got married, but that was before a certain half-Veela came into his life. Now it was a standing testament to a broken engagement. Still, I didn't have it in me to sell the place. I could easily picture my children running through its halls, it just wouldn't be Weasley children.

However, the laboratory was fully stocked and I saw no point in cluttering my apartment with cauldrons and herbs when I had a fully functional space here.

The house was heavily surrounded by wards and various security measures. Almost no one knew that it was mine, but I wasn't taking any chances.

As it was an older house it had a personality of its own. The gate swung open to greet me, and upon entering I found that the mild spring had led to the garden becoming overgrown. It also likely could be contributed to the fact that no one had been coming to the house to see to its upkeep.

Inside the house was in perfect shape. I knew for a fact that this property didn't come with a house elf, so I couldn't help but marvel at the enchantments and spells that were imbued in the house.

Soon enough I found the laboratory waiting for me with gleaming instruments. Sure enough, I still had the ingredients needed for the ancient tracking spell I had stumbled across. I wasn't sure how well it would work, but I had already tried every other tracking spell known to wizardkind.

It took the better part of an hour to prepare the potion that the ring was to be soaked in. After this I would need more boomslang skin and powdered mandrake, but it was prepared.

I had gotten into a habit of wearing the ring on a chain around my neck, and now I took it off and hung the chain on a cupboard knob, so the ring was barely brushing the surface of the liquid.

While the ring was soaking, I laid out a map of the world on the nearest table, and setting out several world atlases as well. By the time I was finished the ring was humming with a silvery aura.

Carefully raising the ring out of the liquid by its chain, I began whispering the incantation as I stepped over to the map. It was an incantation in Old English, so the pronunciation was difficult.

Standing over the world map, I continued chanting as the ring swung in a wide circle. As I kept chanting, the ring's path grew smaller and smaller until it centered over the northwestern portion of the United States.

I had had a suspicion that this would be the case, so I stepped to an atlas that was open to the Northwestern portion of the United States, with Idaho right in the middle. Sure enough, the ring started swinging wildly over the oddly-shaped state, swinging over the southern portion of it.

Moving to a map of just Idaho, I continued chanting as the ring made smaller and smaller circles, centering over a town called Pocatello. I vaguely remembered this being one of the towns that Draco had made a note of.

My mind went into overdrive. Draco Malfoy was somewhere in Pocatello, Idaho, and I needed a way to get there. As I had never been before, apparition was out of the question. I didn't want to risk a portkey, and I would have to deal with MACUSA. I didn't want to even think about all of the paperwork and such nonsense, but if I didn't do it myself then not only would Draco Malfoy stay lost, but the whole Department of Magical Law Enforcement would know exactly what I was doing.

The enormity of it all weighed heavily on me, but I forced myself to fixate on a single point: the tracking spell worked. That meant that he was alive.

I slowly put away the maps and potion ingredients, trying to assess what I should take care of first. I would have to book a Muggle flight to the States. Luckily my passport was in order, and once I had been to the city once I could go again and again through apparition. I would need to obtain a warrant from MACUSA though. It was going to be a bloody mess, and the whole Department would know that I was going to America.

As I locked up my little house my mind was wandering. Idaho was the least likely place that I could see Draco Malfoy being interested in, but that was likely the point. I wondered if he had ever been there before, as well as how he got there.

When I had collected everything I would need, I decided to drop by Harry's office for direction in where to go next. I found him swamped with literal piles of paperwork, mainly from other departments. Harry looked somewhere between overwhelmed and restless, which was a horrible for him. It wouldn't be long until something blew up, quite possibly literally. He was so entrenched in it all that he didn't register my presence, not even glancing up from the piece of paper he was busy glaring at.

Taking in the various stacks of paper, I noted that they were at least divided by department. I sighed. "Harry, how long have you put off paperwork?"

He started, breaking out of his paperwork-induced fugue. "How long have you been here. Hermione?"

"Long enough, Harry Potter. I repeat, how long have you been putting off your paperwork?" I demanded.

"This is only from the last few weeks, but I also got stuck with Ron's paperwork from the last few months," Harry said defeatedly. After a moment he looked stricken and said, "Oh Merlin, I didn't mean-"

"We've known him since we were eleven," I interrupted. "Just because Ronald decided to be a bloody moron doesn't mean we have to pretend he doesn't exist. I'm fine, Harry, just a bit bitter. One day that will pass. Now let's tackle the paperwork that this prat left for you."

The paperwork went fairly quickly as I had worked in most of the departments at one point of time or another. I knew exactly what they were looking for, so with a swish of my wand, a few of the stacks were promptly filled out and sent speeding to their destinations.

I paused to inspect an unusual stack of papers. "Why would there be an accusation of harm of magical creatures?"

Harry groaned. "That's still in there? I told Ron to take care of that months ago! During one of our cases we had to deal with some of Aragog's descendants, and Ron was a bit overzealous in defending himself."

I rolled my eyes. "Of course he was."

Harry was clearly debating something with himself, but finally his lips twitched into a smile. "I think his high-pitched screams were more harmful to the acromantula than any spells he used."

I burst out laughing for the first time in too long. Then without filling a single thing out, I flicked my wand at the pile so it zoomed straight back to Ron's desk. "Legally neither of us can fill that out," I said lightly.

Harry snickered. "What can I do for you, 'Mione?"

Glancing around, I cast a silencing charm so we couldn't be heard, and then I quickly recounted everything of significance that I had found. When I finished Harry looked stunned. "Are you sure this is your first investigation? Merlin, sometimes I forget exactly how brilliant you are."

I pushed back my hair impatiently. "It makes me uneasy that we don't know who is behind all of this. Draco was serious in that memory, and it's vital that everyone continues to believe he's dead. But how would I explain going to America?"

Harry pondered a moment, and I could see his mind working. "There's really no reason for Malfoy's body to be in the States… I hate this Hermione, but you may have to call the case quits." Harry rushed before I could interrupt. "I know you don't fully trust Thaxton. I can't bring myself to fully trust him either. I'm fine reporting to him with crimes like theft, but a life depends on this investigation."

I drummed my fingers on the desk. "You have a suggestion. Let's hear it."

Harry cleared his throat. "You continue this investigation for a week, maybe two. Make it look like you've exhausted every idea and resource you can come up with. Then claim that they must have Malfoy's body or something like that. While we do that we can figure out your passage to America. It's been a while, but we do know some people that work in MACUSA."

I winced a bit. I had done my best to forget. "You don't mean…"

Harry nodded hesitantly. "Our American fan club."

* * *

 **A/N: Please excuse any typos. I'm an English major, but I was literally about to fall asleep while I typed this.**


	7. Old Friends

Chapter 7: Old "Friends"

I couldn't believe what Harry had suggested, but at the same time I knew it was really my only option if I didn't want my trip to America to be broadcasted to the world.

That didn't mean I had to like it. When I looked at Harry I could tell he didn't like the idea any more than I did, but it really was the best one.

Our American fan club consisted of a handful of overzealous MACUSA workers, members of the Magical Congress of the United States of AMerica. As a whole America and Americans fascinated me, but our "fan club" was a bit jarring. They "knew" every detail about us and the battle, so much so that they had spoken to Harry, Ron, and me as if they had been there during the war. They also had "information" about events that had never actually happened. I could only imagine what their sources were.

But Harry was right; they were the best way to get me to America discretely, even if their hero worship made me uneasy.

I heaved a sigh, exaggerating it to make Harry feel a tad bit more guilty. "You're right," I admitted. Then I paused a moment before letting a malicious smile slip free. "But it would look entirely too suspicious if I reached out to them only weeks before they summon me to America. That means I can't open communication with them."

It was Harry's turn to groan. "I deserve that."

"Yes, you do," I said promptly. "I believe Hazel would be eager and able to help you."

Harry visibly paled a bit, recalling his past interactions with that particular woman that admired him so… violently.

Feeling slightly guilty, as a peace offering I said, "Well, let's go kill Draco Malfoy."

Harry grinned just as widely as he would have when we were at Hogwarts. While neither of us now bore any ill will towards Malfoy, there was something exciting about faking the death / disappearance of our once enemy.

We discussed the idea in depth, debating whether we should make the trail appear completely cold or if we should fake some evidence of his death. I was a fan of the latter idea, because people were much less persistent when searching for a corpse. Harry argued that I was the only person searching for Malfoy, but I didn't want my role to be taken over as soon as all the aurors came back to work.

When I had brought Harry around to my side we then debated what "evidence" I should "find" and how we should go about it all. It all felt rather conspiratory to me, but it was a comfortable feeling. It helped that I felt confident in my ability to fabricate Malfoy's death. After all, despite all of Harry's efforts the department really hadn't changed that much since the days of Peter Pettigrew being declared legally dead after finding his finger.

I left Harry grimacing as he penned his letter to Hazel, our "friend" that worked for MACUSA's Bureau of International Affairs. It was quite the job as I understood it, as MACUSA didn't work in conjunction with the American government. Therefore, it was their job to make sure that wizards followed all muggle rules upon entering America, but they also had their own hoops for visitors to jump through. I had been to America within the past year, so I wouldn't have to register my wand or renew my passport, but I was only planning on staying there during business hours, so I would have to get two apparating licenses, one for in-country apparation, one for international apparation.

It was already a giant migraine, but it just might help me save a few lives, including Draco Malfoy's.

After working my way through my own veritable mountain of paperwork, I was ready to apparate home and collapse in my bed and stay there for a year. Before I finished gathering everything I was taking home, though, a knock sounded at the door of my office.

My head whipped up, and I found the lanky form of Blaise Zabini at my door.

I glanced out the window, searching rather intently. "Are pigs flying? Because Blaise Zabini just knocked on my door instead of barging in with his newest rant or demand."

"Oh, shut it Granger," Blaise said with a flash of his white smile. "I wasn't sure how hex-happy you would be once you joined the Aurors."

Blaise was joking like he normally would, but his smile didn't reach his eyes. With a wave of my wand I shut the door, that simple action activating a multiplicity of wards I'd discreetly set up in my office.

"Talk to me Zabini. Your newfound courtesy is alarming," I said gently.

"I will be offended over that later, Granger," he said as an attempt at levity. "But I hear as an auror you've been assigned to a very specific case." When I didn't reply Blaise asked, "Are you searching for Draco?"

My eyes locked with his. "I think we had better sit down." After we had both done so, I took a deep breath. "I know you know about the confidentiality laws, but I also know that Malfoy is your friend, and you wouldn't go spouting off to a reporter or some such nonsense. Yes, I'm looking for Malfoy."

Blaise let out a slow breath. "Thank Merlin they assigned someone who will actually give a-"

"Language," I warned.

He coughed. "Right. Anyway, if I can ever help you, please let me know, please Granger."

"I won't hesitate, not with your best friend on the line," I assured him.

Blaise looked pensive, like he was too nervous to ask something. It was a foreign expression on his face that usually wore confidence that bordered on arrogance. "Have… Have you found anything one way or another?"

Seeing Blaise's agonized face I debated heavily with myself. Malfoy wished for the whole investigation to be a secret, but I had total faith in Blaise. We had worked together for years, and I knew Malfoy would trust him with his life.

"Zabini, you know none of this," I said. "Short of Legilimency, there should be no way that anyone hears any of what I'm about to say." Our eyes locked and Blaise swallowed before giving me the briefest of nods.

Taking a deep breath, I said, "Malfoy is alive."

* * *

 **A/N: This is a little project to improve my writing, let others read it. Please leave feedback! Thanks for reading!**


	8. Zabini

Chapter 8: Zabini

Blaise kept me in my office for what felt like hours. I told him what I could, and Blaise also told me what he knew of the Death Eater revival that was apparently going on:

"I hadn't joined the Death Eaters in the war, and I wasn't directly related to any either," he explained. "I was considered true neutral. I wasn't a blood traitor or an active advocate for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, so I was largely ignored throughout the whole miserable ordeal, thank Merlin.

"Loads of my friends were Death Eaters, and a few of them tried to convince me to join, but Malfoy convinced them to let me alone. At the time I wasn't sure how to feel about that, but now I'm grateful. Anyway, Malfoy casually mentioned to me that some Death Eaters were starting to band together again, and that if I saw signs of it I should leave the country. I suppose I'm not as valuable as the actual Death Eaters, because I never got a face-to-face visit, only a letter. It claimed I had a final chance to 'prove my blood loyalty.'"

"Was it threatening?" I asked.

"Not as threatening as you would expect from Death Eaters," he conceded. "It was more of an invitation to finally pick the 'right side.' I didn't say anything to anyone because with all of the post-war prejudices against pureblood Slytherins, the newspapers would have made me out to be the return of Voldemort himself."

I nodded, silently impressed that he managed to say the name with only a small flinch.

"Just so you know," I began, "searching for Malfoy was my original task, and it continues to be my central focus. But if I had a chance to get more information on what's going on, or the opportunity to topple the revitalized Death Eater regime, I'm going to do it."

We had been standing, and Blaise chuckled. "I would expect nothing less, Granger." After a moment, he threw his arms around me. "Just don't get yourself killed. I know you're a bloody Gryffindor, _and_ part of the Golden Trio, but remember that you're the smart one. I know the idiot Weasel made you doubt that as well as your value, but I want you to come back from this just as badly as I want you to bring Draco with you."

When Blaise's strong arms released me, I stumbled a bit, unsure of what to do or say.

"I've been wanting to tell you that since that git left you the way he did, but I was a coward. I'm more grateful than I can express that you're helping Draco, but if you get yourself killed because of your bloody courage or your broken heart, I will tell everyone at your funeral exactly what happened that night we went for drinks," Blaise warned.

"You wouldn't," I yelped.

"Don't die and we won't have to find out. But really, take care of yourself, Granger." Blaise affectionately ruffled my hair before slipping out of the door.

I smoothed my hair down with a huff even as a smile quirked my lips upwards. Blaise and I had been paired together by chance on my first day of working at the Ministry and we moved through departments at the same pace, although we weren't always in the same one. He was brilliant as well as a charmer, and I loved my friendship with him because we didn't have to slow down or explain scholarly references to one another in conversations.

At Hogwarts I'd always pegged him as an arrogant git, but I had learned later that his younger self didn't know how to cope with his mother and his ever-growing list of stepfathers. His relationship with his mother was still pretty terrible, but after convincing him not to completely cut her out his life, he now dragged me to every interaction he had with her.

All I could say was that one day Blaise Zabini would make some witch incredibly lucky.

That was all that my mind had time for when I apparated to the same alleyway I had apparated from earlier that day. I really would have to find a closer spot. The walk home nearly killed me. Once in my apartment, I barely remembered to feed Crookshanks and myself before falling into bed.

While washing my face, I remembered meeting Mrs. Lewis, or Carol, and Charles. It felt like that had happened years ago, rather than earlier today.

Making a note to remember my dinner invitation for tomorrow, I fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks to all the reviewers and followers so far, it keeps me writing!**


	9. Just Hermione

Chapter 9: Just Hermione

On Sunday I woke up to Crookshanks "lovingly" batting at my face. In the past I had woken up similarly to a mischievous ginger flicking my nose, so I sat up with a yell of, "Ronald!"

Rather than a ginger man, all that awaited me was a ginger cat that yowled at me. As I pushed Crookshanks away, I couldn't help but consider how pathetically alone I was. When I was younger being single had never bothered me much. I knew that the right man would come along one day.

And I thought he had. Ron really did bring me happiness, true happiness. That meant it hurt all the worse when he left.

In my heart of hearts I thought that it would have hurt less if Ron had died instead of cheated. To clarify, I by no means wished death upon Ronald. A minor case of Dragon Pox, perhaps, but not death. And I suppose it wouldn't hurt _less_ necessarily, but it would've been a different sort of hurt. As things happened, it felt like I cried every tear for myself.

It feels bloody stupid, but that's the nature of being cheated on. There is no upside, at least none that I had found yet. Being cheated on meant constantly second-guessing every decision you've ever made, as well as questioning what exactly made you so repulsive that your "significant other" felt the need to content themselves with the company of a half-Veela.

And even now, a month later as my cat stared at me with his infinitely condescending wisdom, I wondered if this was all the love I was permitted in life. All I had been allotted was a cat with a foul temperament, an owl who had adopted me, and an overgrown herb garden.

Time and time again I tried to tell myself that my situation could be so much worse, and that I should be grateful for what I did have. But sometimes one can't help but wallow a bit. However, Crookshanks was having none of that today. He batted at my chin once more to remind me that he was waiting for his breakfast.

With a groan I heaved myself out of bed. Yesterday had been entirely too long, and my real investigation was halted. Harry had given me a list of search methods to follow before declaring it a cold case, but I had done everything on the list on my first day of investigation. One day I would have to broach the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's terrible investigation protocols, but that was a battle for another day.

I would have to give some half-baked evidence as to why I couldn't find the corpse of Draco Malfoy, but I had at least a week to do that. For today I was taking a break.

Unfortunately I was terrible at relaxing. Crookshanks had ruined any chance of me sleeping in, and that was the one way I really indulged myself.

I decided to take a bath and soak a while, and I finally had the opportunity to start a book I had been looking forward to. It was a muggle novel, a historical fiction that had great reviews.

My leisure-reading crashed to an abrupt halt when I found myself penning an angry letter to the author over several historical inaccuracies. I forced myself to discard the book and burn the letter, meanwhile contemplating that I may have a problem.

After that I attempted to fill my day with several different activities that were traditionally considered "relaxing," but each served only to wind me up into a more anxious mess. I tried watching TV, only to find myself watching a dramatization of some witch hunt or another. I tried baking, but just as it always did when I baked in the wrong mindset, it literally exploded. I even apparated to my cottage in Godric's Hollow to do a bit of gardening, but I stumbled across a broomstick that Ron had left there. Before I realized what I was doing, I had smashed the thing to splinters an set it on fire for good measure.

I tried to tell myself that I wasn't usually this petty or violent, but no smore had ever tasted as good as the one I roasted over Ronald's broom. Truth be told, I was always a nightmare when I had a big project hanging over my head. Directly after that war I had fixated on the act of obliviation.

Since the invention of the spell, there was no cure or records of recovery from it other than when extreme torture was used. That had been my intent when I used it on my parents, though it remains the hardest thing I've ever done. But after the war I had lost so much, I just wanted my parents back.

Countless well-meaning people tried to tell me that it was a pointless endeavor that would result in me being hurt or disappointed. But somehow I crammed years of research into the few months I had between finishing my seventh year at Hogwarts and beginning university.

My breakthrough came a mere two days before I was scheduled to start university, both muggle and wizard. What the final clue happened to be was a muggle neurology textbook that I had bought as a last resort. In many ways the brain is a mystery for muggles and wizards alike. But muggles have already answered some questions that wizards hadn't thought of yet.

Science and magic rarely coexist peacefully, and generally each is seen as an antithesis of the other. But really, they're more like opposite sides of a coin. Both have strengths and shortcomings.

With a hefty knowledge of both magic and neurology, I was able to find the cure. My parents were the first to ever fully recover, and unfortunately they were followed by Gilderoy Lockhart. A fraction of St. Mungo's patients were released, some after decades of hospitalization.

The cure spread _around the world_ like wildfire. I still occasionally received letters from grateful patients or their families. But it always interested me to see how people tended to compartmentalize things. It was astonishing how few people made the connection that Hermione Granger, war heroine and friend of Harry Potter was the same person as Hermione Granger, Order of Merlin First Class for her medical contributions. Even more entertaining were my coworkers that didn't realize that Hermione Granger, department jumper was in fact both of those people as well.

I was broken out of my thought when I noticed the time. I was still in my pajamas and I was having dinner with the neighbors in an hour. If I didn't hurry things up I would be Hermione Granger, the girl who was late.

* * *

 **A/N: Not entirely sure where this chapter came from, but here it is. I normally try to keep at one chapter a week, but I also believe in celebratory chapters. I just got back from presenting at a national literature conference and I killed it, so here's my personal celebration.**


	10. Connections

Chapter 10

Unsure of what Carol would be expecting, I showed up in a sundress with a bouquet of pink lilies. I had thought about bringing a bottle of wine, but Carol was a character without the addition of alcohol. I had a feeling that tonight would be interesting.

When I knocked on their door I heard Carol hiss, "Go get the door, Charles."

"But I was-"

"Go."

A harried-looking Charles answered the door. "`Lo, Hermione. Come on in, we nearly have everything ready."

After I had stepped inside, Charles hurried off before I could thank him. "Mum, put that china down, you'll throw out your back."

The two bickered until Charles won, and Carol came over to greet me. "I'm so glad you could make it, Hermione darling. Charles is busy fussing, but he's such a fine young man. The spitting image of his father, he is."

From the kitchen Charles called, "Mum, I'm adopted."

"I was there, you know," Carol huffed indignantly. "But he has his father's temperament. God bless my Henrik up in heaven."

The name froze me. As casually as I could, I asked, "Your husband's name is Henrik Lewis?"

"Yes," Carol said with melancholy. "He was such a good man. I just hope one day someone finds out what really happened. The autopsy couldn't find a cause of death."

Pieces were falling into place, and I was itching for a notebook. Instead I said, "I'm so sorry. Do you have any family around to ease your burden?"

"I'm afraid not," Carol said. "My parents have both passed, and Henrik was estranged from his family years ago."

He would have been, if he was who I thought he was. Henrik Lewis, a cousin of the Parkinson family who had been a Death Eater at the rise of Voldemort, but after a few years he disappeared, not to be seen again until after Voldemort's downfall. Henrik had still been incredibly secretive afterwards, and his death was the first in a string of former Death Eaters. Everyone assumed it had been due to him abandoning the Death Eaters, but marrying a muggle and adopting yet another muggle was more than enough reason. It had made him target number one.

I smiled thinly. "At least you have Charles."

"Yes…" Carol smiled fondly at her son. "But that's enough of that. We have a delicious dinner waiting. Those lilies are lovely by the way…"

Carol chattered throughout the meal, mostly extolling her son's virtues. Charles was quiet, but he was looking at me oddly. I found it was easier to deflect questions by giving simple (and vague) answers and then asking a question that gave Carol an excuse to continue elaborating on the wonders of Charles's character.

The food was delicious, and it also gave me slight reprieve. A well-timed bite gave me a few moments to collect my thoughts and ready my deflection. I was prolonging a bite, taking care to thoroughly chew the piece of roast when I heard a frantic knocking on the door of my apartment.

Carol dabbed her mouth with a napkin. "That must be important if we can hear the knocking over here. Go on and get that dear."

As I thanked her I didn't miss the spark of interest in her eyes. I heard her foot make contact with Charles's shin, and he shot up to get the door for me. Nodding my thanks to Charles, I stepped out. "Harry, what are you doing?"

Harry rounded on me, looking startled. "Hermione. Did I get the wrong apartment? I could have sworn-"

"I was at dinner with my neighbors," I said to cut him off. Harry was in quite a state, his eyes frantic. "Is everything okay?"

He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything Charles interrupted, "Is that Harry Potter? Are you Harry bleeding Potter?!"

Both Harry and I turned to gape at Charles. "I thought you lived in a muggle apartment complex," Harry hissed.

"I checked, there were no registered wizards here," I muttered.

"Oh, come in both of you," Carol said, gesturing grandly. "Neither Charles nor I have magic, but Henrik, God rest his soul, was a fine wizard."

Harry's eyebrows shot to his hairline. "You were married to Henrik Lewis?"

"The love of my life," she sighed. "Come in and shut the door. That must be why Hermione's name sounded so familiar. Every day Henrik would get his newspaper and pour over it. He had a sense about him, because our family just happened to go on an extended vacation out of the country whenever things would get truly bad."

"You were nothing more than bedtime stories for me for years," Charles said to Harry. "Even when I was a teenager I wouldn't go to sleep without Da telling me his news from the day. It didn't feel real to me, but I loved the stories of you tow and the whiny red-haired bloke."

I couldn't help but snicker at Charles's description of Ron, and I noticed Harry snicker a fair bit as well.

Carol carefully folded her hands. "To what do we owe the pleasure to have a visit from the savior of the world, as well as the girl who kept him alive so he could save the world?"

Harry choked. "I think you underestimate me, ma'am."

"No, my husband kept me well informed. You, young man, saved your folk and us ordinary ones alike. That man. Moldytort, he hated us ordinary folk and he would have killed all of us eventually," she said seriously. "We had no way to stop him. So thank you two, from all of us."

I looked at Harry and his cheeks were a bit pink. Even now, years later, neither of us knew how to react to someone who was so eager and genuinely thankful.

Carol cleared her throat. "Mr. Potter, would you mind joining us for dinner today? We would love to have you."

Harry cleared his throat. "Yes, thank you."

Charles swiftly retrieved another place setting. His eyes were shining as they shot between Harry and me.

"I knew your name sounded familiar," Carol said as she piled food onto Harry's plate. "I never saw any pictures of you tow. I loved my husband and his magic, but there were a few things that were simply too much for me, and photographs that move are one of them."

"It does take a while to get used to," Harry acknowledged.

The four of us continued chatting for too long. Charles would ask questions here and there, but I could tell it took a lot of self control not to drown us in questions.

Finally Harry and I managed to extricate ourselves from Carol's apartment. Once locked inside my apartment, the mood turned serious. "We're going to have to move a little more quickly," Harry said. "Hazel is extremely eager to help you, and she has a few days next week that she could help you navigate America. She expedited all of your various licenses and paperwork. Additionally, our absent aurors are scheduled to come back before you leave, so we need solid evidence sot hey don't take over the case."

I blew out a long breath, trying to dissolve the anxiety that was raging in my stomach. "I don't like this, Harry. I'm looking for Draco Malfoy, but Death Eaters are conspiring against the whole of the wizarding world, and we're about to be in the thick of it."

Harry looked pained, his eyes resting on my hand, which I hadn't realized was tracing my ugliest scar. His green eyes met mine. "You really don't have to do all of this, Hermione. You didn't choose to be an auror. We can handle this."

I sighed. "I'm just scared. I thought-stupidly-that the days of being hunted by Death Eaters were over. But I can't- I won't turn my back on Malfoy. I know what you're going to say, but I'm already vested. Scared, but vested."

"I'll always be ready to help you, Hermione Jean Granger," Harry vowed seriously. "But honestly, with your mind on the case, the Death Eaters will be running for the hills."

I laughed airily. "Thank you, Harry. I can tell you're worried about something else, though. What do _you_ need help with?"

Harry paled. "I need to figure out how I'm going to propose to Ginny."

* * *

 **A/N: Funny side-note, but I actually wrote the majority of this chapter at a national literature conference. I like keeping tabs on things I wrote in fun places.**

 **As always, thanks for the reviews and favorites! It always inspires me to write!**


	11. Murder in Progress

Chapter 11: Murder in Progress

Harry was at my apartment long enough that he ended up sleeping on my couch, surrounded by papers covered in our scribbled ideas and plans.

Thankfully Harry staying the night at my place was old hat by now. Ron was rubbish at dealing with emotions, so Harry and I relied heavily on each other even when Ron had been in my good graces. The first time that Harry had fallen asleep on my couch Ron and Ginny had practically broke down my door, ready to hex both of us into oblivion. I'd had to petrify Ron so I could keep him from killing Harry and explain that nothing had happened.

After a long heart-to-heart with Ginny it was established that Harry was the closest thing I had to a brother, and nothing was ever going to happen between the two of us. And it was true; while I frantically searched for a cure for my parents, Ron had been disgusted and bored, but Harry let me bounce ideas off of him, even when they went completely over his head.

With a yawn I went about starting some coffee for us. We would need it if we were going to get everything done that we needed to.

Since the defeat of Voldemort, Harry slept like a rock. I theorized that it was a way to make up all the sleep lost back when his mind had been connected to the Dark Lord's. There were little things like that that showed that the war was truly over. That didn't mean that we escaped the war without mental scars as well as physical ones. However, we were healing, slowly but surely.

Harry still hadn't stirred by the time I was ready for work and in the process of making breakfast. The kitchen wasn't far from the living room so it wasn't difficult to lob an apple at the sleeping form of my best friend.

He sat up suddenly, panicked. His hand was clutching his one defensively, but without his glasses he was defenseless.

I laughed. " We're going to be late to work. Get your lazy rear off my couch."

Harry groaned and stretched before beginning the search for his glasses. His hair stuck up in every possible direction, but it was comforting in a way. Even as Harry grew into one of the best and strongest men I knew, there were still pieces of my scrawny friend I met all those years ago.

"You know where the bathroom is. I apparated to your place and got some clean clothes for you. Hurry or there won't be any food for you," I said, gesturing with a spatula.

By the time I got breakfast on the table Harry had emerged wearing fresh clothes, and his hair was damp, but only slightly more managed. It didn't take him long to wolf down breakfast. The coffee also helped immeasurable, because when Harry met my eyes his green eyes were shining with intelligence.

"We have a lot to get done," Harry said.

I nodded. "I already sent Thaxton an owl explaining that you agreed to help me today. He already thinks I'm an incompetent little girl, so I said it was for safety."

Harry nodded. "So do we need to stop by the Ministry at all?"

"Yes, I have some notes I need, and we're collecting another Ministry worker I've decided to poach."

I ignored the confused look on Harry's face and trooped the way to my office. Harry followed somewhat grudgingly- he knew me well enough to know I probably wouldn't answer any questions.

As we got closer to my office, I paused. "Someone has triggered the wards in my office."

Harry tensed. "How do you know? Wait, are we even allowed to put wards-"

I shushed him, listening intently. "Oh, for Merlin's sake," I muttered, exasperatedly moving to yank the door open.

My Lover's Grasp plant had tripled in size and it encompassed a lean young man yelling curses at it. It was a favorite plant of mine, and it was distantly related to Devil's Snare.

After a simple calming spell the plant shrank back, now only slightly larger than it had been yesterday. I somehow managed to keep a straight face. "I warned you to stay out of my office if I wasn't here, Zabini."

"And when you didn't tell me about your murderous houseplants you knew I would just be itching to go try my luck," Blaise accused, fruitlessly attempting to straighten his hair.

"I was hoping I would have a camera on the day," I sighed. "But the memory will suffice.

Blaise glowered at Harry. "You better not breathe a word of this, Potter. Now why am I here, Granger?"

I took a deep breath in. It somehow readied me for what I would have to say: "We need your help faking a murder."

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry for the late update. I normally try to post a new chapter every Sunday, but obviously that did not happen this time around. This week has been insane between exams and papers that are due. It's not even finals yet! As always, reviews are greatly appreciated. It really does make me happy and want to write more! I just want to give a special shoutout to MaMia for semi-consistently leaving intriguing comments.**


	12. A Death and A Return

Chapter 12: A Death and A Return

Blaise blinked before grinning knowingly. "It's been a while, but I still remember the ropes. I knew one day you would get tired of being 'the Chosen One.' So, how are we killing you off, Potter?"

Harry looked a bit perturbed. "I like my life as it is, thank you."

I snorted. He better like his life after all the planning we put into his proposal. If Harry ever decided to disappear I would hunt him down myself.

But I forced my tired mind to return to the task at hand. Locking eyes with Blaise, I said, "We need your help faking Draco's death."

Blaise didn't react at all; he merely nodded. "I was waiting for you to ask for help, Granger. Draco Malfoy will be legally dead by lunchtime."

Harry looked unnerved. "You can legitimately fake someone's death in a matter of hours?"

"I haven't done this since university when Granger caught me," Blaise said in a hurry. "She made me swear not to unless it was for a good cause."

Harry raised a critical eyebrow at me, and I defended, "It's not our fault that your department is terrible when it comes to missing person cases. Besides, Zabini has a gift, so it would be bloody foolish to make him renounce something that could save lives."

Zabini puffed up a little with pride. "Yeah, Potter. I have a gift."

"And an insufferable ego," I said reflexively. "Now shall we go kill Malfoy?"

As always, it amazed me how prepared Zabini was. Without hesitation he pulled out potion upon potion, explaining that they would accomplish, and what spell or charm it would be paired with.

With that we left the Ministry just far enough to apparate away. We ended up in a pretty heavily forested area a few kilometers away from Malfoy Manor. No one really owned this land to my knowledge. It was near a few of the places Harry and I had camped during the war.

Blaise rubbed his hands together. "This is perfect."

All three of us procured our wands, and Blaised passed us various potions, each with very specific instructions. With the three of us working together it didn't take long, maybe an hour.

I stepped back, admiring the convincing murder scene. "Well done, Blaise. Remember boys, you were here because I'm a weak, vulnerable female. Now let's document this and report our findings."

The documentation process for the Ministry was only slightly more thorough than searching for missing persons, but I had my suspicions that it was because Harry was an extra-vigilant Auror, not because the Department of Magical Law Enforcement cared.

True to Blaise's word, we were done before lunch. Thanking him and promising to treat both of them to lunch, we made our way to Thaxton's office.

Thaxton looked as disgruntled to see me as ever. "What is it?"

"Sir, Auror Potter and Mr. Zabini agreed to help me search an area of interest, and we found enough evidence to prove that Draco Malfoy is deceased," I said with as much gravity as I could.

"How recently was he killed?" Thaxton asked with a minimal amount of interest.

"Within the last twenty-four hours," I said.

"Very well. Leave the report, Miss Granger. As of this moment you are no longer a member of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Mr. Zabini, to be clear you were never authorized to be a part of this, and as such while your efforts today are appreciated, you will receive no compensation. Auror Potter, you have assignments of your own, especially now that you can do field work as you now have a partner," Thaxton said with a minimal amount of condescension.

Harry looked confused. "Was I assigned a temporary partner? Sir, I can-"

What Harry could do would never be voiced, because a very distinctive laugh interrupted him.

I didn't think it would affect me so drastically. At the sound of his voice I tensed up, my hand unconsciously clutching my wand.

My hand shook as I placed the report on the desk. "I'll take my leave, then."

Blaise got to the door before I did, and upon opening it he ushered me out, his hands planted firmly on my shoulders. With Blaise steering me we almost made it without Ronald seeing us. But alas, Ron spotted us when we were about a meter from the door.

I wanted to punch Ronald in the face for his smirk. He called, "Hermione, what brings you here?"

My hand clutched my wand a little tighter. I itched to hex his freckles off and turn his ring into ash. I smiled thinly and said, "Just some business. We can't all go on vacation whenever we please."

Blaise cleared his throat. He had never liked Ron, and now the same arrogant Slytherin we had grown up with came back in full force. He looked down his nose at Ron, capitalizing on the little height he had on Ron. His face was one of utter disgust and disdain. "Weasley, if you'll excuse us, Hermione and I have real work to do. We also have a few crimes to commit, but that's going to be the agenda for our lunch break, but you don't need to know about that anyway."

With that Blaise pushed me out of the door and all the way to my office. Once there, Blaise closed and locked the door. "If I see that git outside of work I swear I'm going to curse him."

I laughed, but it sounded shaky and flat. Mustering a wooden smile I said, "Maybe you'll get the chance when Ron decides to investigate us for all those crimes we're apparently going to commit."

Blaise grinned wickedly. "We've already committed our crimes. My favorite part is that Potter helped."

I chuckled a little. "You Slytherins called him Saint Potter, but the three of us got into more trouble and broke more rules than you could even dream of."

Blaise laughed. "And somehow you are in a top position in the Ministry."

I finally smiled a real smile. "That is the beauty of it."

* * *

 **A/N: And I'm back! Sorry for the wait, I have a strong suspicion that college finals are meant to kill students off. I finished my last one today, but now I get to move out of my apartment. It's always a party. Anyways, as always thanks for follows and reviews. I'll try to write a lot more over the summer, as long as people are reading!**


	13. Preparations

Chapter 13: Preparations

The news of Draco Malfoy's demise spread like wildfire. Before it officially hit the press I found myself once again at Malfoy Manor, bringing terrible news. I warred with myself for a long time before deciding to keep the secret from them. I had risked enough telling Harry and Blaise.

Watching the Malfoy parents attempt to keep their composure almost broke me. Seeing the tears shining in Narcissa's eyes made me vow to myself to find Dracon, no matter the cost.

After informing the Malfoys I went to my apartment o pack for my upcoming trip to America. Luckily I still had my beaded bag from years ago and I could fit the entire contents of my apartment in it if I really needed to. For show I packed a duffle bag because it would have looked odd traveling between countries with naught but a small beaded bag.

I had been in correspondence with Hazel and I would be leaving the day after tomorrow. I appreciated her efforts to speed up the process, but I would still lose an entire day to paperwork.

That night I tuned into the wizarding news radio station. I in conjunction with quite a few other Muggleborns had tried to introduce the idea of television in the wizarding world, but our only real supporter was Arthur Weasley.

Lee Jordan hosted WNN-Wizards' Nightly News- and it was more accurate and objective than the Daily Prophet. It was funded by none other than Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

Adulthood had not changed Lee Jordan. Voldemort himself had been unable to curb Lee's tongue, so I don't know why anyone expected time to do so. When the clock struck seven, Lee's voice crackled over the speakers. "Hello, witches and wizards, and welcome to tonight's Wizards' Nightly News, funded by the one and only Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, not to be associated with Ronald Weasley, professional git. To begin, we have a sponsored message for Ronald: 'Ron, if we weren't so scared of mym we would hex you within an inch of your life. Sincerely Your Brothers and Harry.' What a heartwarming message today, folks. Now any of you men out there that might be excited that our very own war heroine Hermione Granger is single, remember this list of men that stand behind her."

I found myself laughing more than I had for a long while. Molly would be sending a howler to everyone involved with the "sponsored message," including Lee Jordan and Ron himself. It still hurt, thinking about what Ron had done, but it was nice to know that the Weasleys still cared about me. I also knew Molly's howlers would have a little less fire in them than usual because she secretly agreed with the message.

After his nightly antics, Lee got to the more serious portions of the news. "We regret to inform everyone that the resurgence of Death Eaters has continued. In the latest news, they have killed reformed Death Eater Draco Malfoy. But do not panic, ladies and gents. The Ministry is dedicating all of their resources to this very cause, and for once they are even overcoming their monumental pride to ask other countries for assistance. Things have changed since the reign of You-Know-Who. Draco Malfoy is a shining example of this. When I first met him, I knew that he was the most vile, unpleasant first year to ever set their foot in Hogwarts. However, Draco Malfoy has changed and I've had to work with him on multiple occasions, and I actually enjoyed being around the bloke.

"Those Death Eaters are recruiting, and Draco Malfoy is dead because he said no. He has become an example to us all, and the years before his death he consistently filled the world with goodness. Don't panic listeners, because there is still good in the world. Draco Malfoy, I only wish we could have been friends ages ago."

Lee kept going with the news, but I couldn't concentrate anymore. I touched my cheeks. At some point I had begun crying without noticing. It was mental because I knew that Draco Malfoy was alive somewhere in America.

But for the first time since Ron broke off the engagement two months ago, I really let myself cry. I cried for my broken heart, and the fear that infested it, fear of these Death Eaters on the loose. I cried for the people mourning Draco Malfoy, as well as the people mourning other reformed Death Eaters, unjustly murdered. I cried for Carol and Charles, both suffering a major loss because of a world they weren't a part of.

In short, I cried until I had no more tears left to cry.

* * *

 **A/N: I just finished up for the semester, and I'm hoping to update more often. We'll see how the summer treats me. Thanks as always to my readers.**


	14. Step One

Chapter 14: Step One

Ginny was bleary-eyed and messy-haired when she answered the door. With a yawn she said, "`Lo, Hermione. You're disgustingly chipper today. What time is it?"

"It's eight-thirty. I came by to drop off Crookshanks and Archimedes," I said, both cat carrier and owl cage in my hands.

She yawned again. "But I thought your flight doesn't leave until this afternoon."

I smiled thinly. It was true, but I was sent at this time because Harry was finally going to propose today, and I had been deployed to assure Ginny was ready on time. Clearing my throat, I said, "I was wondering if you would run a few errands with me."

Ginny looked at me flatly. "You hate running errands with other people there to slow things down."

Holding back a sigh, I let go of my tenuous smile. "Okay, I don't actually have errands. I just don't want to be alone before I leave for the states, and everyone else is busy."

My fiery-haired friend yawned. "Can't it wait a few hours? I know how you get with big cases, but you do remember what sleep feels like, don't you Hermione?"

I fought with myself. Harry's plan depended on this. I refused to let all of our planning go to waste because Ginevra Molly Weasley was sleepy. I hated doing this to Ginny when this was her one day to catch up on sleep she missed for Quidditch practice, but this was also the only day off that Ginny and Harry shared for _months._ Making the most pathetic face I could muster, I said, "This whole Malfoy thing has really messed me up, and then yesterday I saw Ron."

At that Ginny snapped awake, murder in her eyes. "What did he do? By Merlin I will kill him where he stands."

I snorted. "I didn't give him the opportunity to say anything. But the last thing I want is to go about town thinking about everything and then running into him and his tart."

Ginny nodded. "Although I'm sure if you hexed her you could make it out to be self-defense."

I sighed. "But that would be a little harder to use as an excuse if I hexed them both into next week."

"But the sight it would be," Ginny said a little dreamily.

"I feel obligated to remind you that she is your sister-in-law," I said.

"Yes, unfortunately. I've inquired about disowning a sister-in-law, but apparently you have to leave something in your will for them in the first place. I've decided if their relationship lasts six months I've disowning Ron and revoking his rights as my brother." Then Ginny looked me over critically. "Hermione, I love you but we are not having you go around town looking like that."

A little offended I looked at my clothes. "I'm going to be on a plane all day, it wouldn't make sense to wear something nice. Besides, these are my nice pair of sweats."

Ginny shuddered. "Hermione Jean Granger, you did not just claim to have 'nice sweats.' And then today you show up without having thought about your hair or makeup. It pains me, Hermione."

"No one is going to care!" I protested.

"You might see your ex-fiance and his wife, and you're the hot young bachelorette on the market. We are not leaving my apartment with you looking less than stellar," Ginny demanded stubbornly.

I sighed in defeat. "Fine. But can I at least put down Crookshanks and Archimedes?"

Once my pets were made comfortable in Ginny's apartment she whisked me into her bathroom and sicced her enchanted makeup brushes on me. She brutally attacked my hair, wrestling it into a classy braid.

"Wear this," Ginny demanded, shoving a flimsy sundress into my arms.

"I'm offended on behalf of my sweats," I called as she slammed the door of the bathroom.

Ginny emerged in record time, looking killer in a lacey white sundress that showcased her athleticism. "Okay Hermione, we have the whole morning before us. Besides, now you can go snag yourself a handsome American."

I gagged a bit. "Sure, whatever you say. Let's go waste time."

Following Ginny, we found ourselves in Diagon Alley in no time. Neither of us truly needed anything, so we wandered a bit. We ended up going to a new broom store where Ginny ran around like a child in a candy shop. I contented myself with the fact that I would act much the same once we got to Flourish and Blott's. She dragged me from display to display.

In the broom shop (called Atkins and Sons) Ginny and I were the recipients of many appreciative male looks. A few children trailed Ginny for a while, asking for autographs on various Hollyhead Harpies merchandise. When she went to buy her items the store owner looked excited enough to faint. Overall, Ginny and I were in Arkins and Sons for at least two hours, which felt excessive to me personally, but I still hated flying with a vengeance.

When we finally left and as soon as Flourish and Blott's was in view a small sense of peace washed over me. There would always be solace in books for me.

Ginny was laughing at me as I practically skipped through the door to where the smell of books awaited. We were laughing together until I stopped dead in my tracks, confronted by the two people I wanted to see least in the world.

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry for the late update, moving to and from college is always hard. Honestly, moving was worse than my finals (which were murder). But both are over now, and I'm hoping that I'll be able to post more frequently over the summer, but I'm going to be working two jobs, so for right now I'll still aim for one chapter a week. As always reviews are incredibly helpful and encouraging. I can't give an exact chapter count, but the action is going to be starting soon. Apologies for any typos, I literally fell asleep a few times while I was typing this.**


	15. Step Two and a Flight

Chapter 15: Step Two and a Flight

Ginny crashed into me just beyond the door. "Oy! Hermione, you have to keep walking to get to the books."

At my name being spoken a set of muddy brown eyes swiveled to me. As Ginny indignantly shoved me further into the room, a sly smile spread over the face of Ronald Bilius Weasley.

"Good morning, Hermione," Ron said cheerfully, knowing full well that I would rather die than speak to him.

Cursed social conventions. "Good morning Ronald," I said in the frostiest voice I could muster.

Ginny, however, felt less constrained by society. "What are you doing here?" she demanded of her brother.

"It's a store, Ginny. Anyone can come in," Ron retorted. "I'd like you both to meet Rita, my wife. She's quite the reader."

Sure enough, a bombshell blonde waltzed over, several books in hand. Had she worn more clothing she would have been a classic beauty that might have rivalled Fleur herself. As it was, her hair had a slightly fried look about it, belying any pretense that she was a natural blonde. She had the barest baby bump, only noticeable because of the skin tight shirt she wore.

In a heavy French accent she said, "Oh hello, 'zis must be ze 'ermione and Ginevra you've told me about. 'Ello, I am Rita."

"Bonjour," I said rather flatly. Ginny didn't even deign to greet Rita, she only glared. I decided to intervene before Ginny did something drastic. " _Comme il fait beau. Enfin du soliel! C'est bien agreable, vous me trouvez pas?"_

Both Rita and Ron stared at me with slightly gaping mouths. I politely said, "Oh, I might be a bit rusty on my pronunciation."

Looking panicked, Rita said, "Oh, you speak my language quite well. A few more years and you might be able to hold a conversation." But even as she said this, Rita's "accent" slipped in and out, French blending into… American?

I almost wanted to laugh at her comment. I was nearly fluent in all of the Romance languages, especially French, as well as a few other languages.

In all reality both the fake accent and the bleached hair was probably a child's attempt at imitating Fleur. I hoped I was there when Fleur met her new sister-in-law. Fleur was kind, but also stubborn and so much more than a pretty face, despite how the media portrayed her.

I glanced at the books that filled Rita's arms and nearly collapsed with laughter. "I haven't read any books from that section," I said, fighting back a snicker. "Aren't those the _adult_ romances?" (I'd heard that they could hardly count as romances as the couples in such books were too busy with other things to actually speak to each other.)

At Ginny's snort of derision, Rita's cheeks blushed bright red with anger. At least there was one thing she would have in common with the rest of the Weasleys.

Fuming, the blonde took a few steps closer to me. Dropping the painful accent, she hissed, "Listen Granger, Ron used to be yours, but he's mine now. Maybe if you read a few of these books and stopped dressing like a nun you wouldn't be destined to die alone."

My mind barely registered the confirmation that Rita was American. I was reeling when she continued, "You may think you're so wonderful and smart, but that's exactly why you'll never attract a man. So yes, while I read my adult romances, I'll be going to bed each night with a rich auror while you have a cat."

I stumbled back a few steps. As much as I didn't want them to, Rita's words confirmed all of the clandestine feeling nestled in my heart. Blinking back angry tears, I said, "Ginny, I forgot something important. Let's go."

The shopkeeper, a Muggleborn I'd gotten to know quite well looked panicked. "Is everything okay Hermione? I've never seen you leave without buying anything."

I glanced back at Ronald and Rita. "I don't care for your less discerning customers."

Mavis narrowed her eyes at them. "That's Weasley's new Jezebel?"

At my nod, Mavis waved me out with a look of understanding.

Ginny, however, hadn't heard me as she was too busy berating her brother. "No, I am not getting your tart season tickets. Merlin's beard, you don't get season tickets anymore!" At Ron's attempted protests, Ginny hissed, "Percy gets your season tickets."

Ron's face was starting to turn red, and I just didn't have it in me to deal with a temper tantrum. "Ginny, we need to go see about that dedication we're speaking at."

Turning from her brother, Ginny nodded. After the war there were countless monuments and memorials built, and each one had some major figure from the war speak at it. Though they had grown less frequent with time, there were still far too many to speak at all of them, and there were only so many ways to talk about the war.

As often as possible, we "war heroes" attempted to dump these responsibilities on each other. Ronald was the only one who actually enjoyed speaking at them, and he actually got pretty offended when he wasn't asked to speak. THe catch was that Ronald Weasley is rubbish at public speaking. The public quickly learned to abstain from asking Ron. More often than not, such things were kept a secret from him. I knew my comment would leave Ron in a foul mood for the rest of the day.

To make Rita's day even better, as we left I heard Mavis say loudly, "That will be seven sickles and three knuts for your porn."

Ginny and I cackled as we left, but mine wasn't as lighthearted as I hoped it would be. When I fell silent, Ginny looked concerned. "Hermione, what did she say to you?"

I smiled halfway. "Nothing that wasn't true."

"That's complete dragon dung and you know it," Ginny said harshly.

"The best insults are the true ones," I said reflectively.

"Hermione Granger, shut your face before I slap it," Ginny threatened. Looking at the time she said, "I know exactly where we should go."

"Exactly where we should go" turned out to be Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. The cashier, likely a Hogwarts student on their summer holiday gave us an incredibly disinterested greeting before a pale, freckled hand darted out of the backroom and smacked the back of the boy's head. "Honestly Thomas, I'm starting to doubt your dedication as a prankster. You have to show zest for all things in life. I wouldn't let that greeting pass for anyone except maybe Percy. But of all people to greet so dismally." George shook his head sadly.

George Weasley had grown into a fine man, one with even more charm than he had in his youth. He came out to embrace each of us with an easy grin.

"You'd think any teenage boy would be thrilled to see two such beautiful women," Ginny said, her hands on her hips.

"Don't mind Thomas, he's having a bit of a fight with his boyfriend," George said easily as Thomas grew more sullen. Then the ginger glared as his employee. "But we've talked about keeping a professional from customers, especially customers who are friends and family."

The teen wasn't phased, and at his unchanged demeanor George looked at him threateningly. "And if Thomas doesn't straighten up soon I'll be giving him the same greeting as ickle Ronniekins."

At that Thomas immediately straightened up and pasted a smile to his face, leaving me to wonder what "special greeting" Ron could expect upon visiting the shop.

George walked us through the shop and his various new experiments in the back room. All the while I kept a close eye on the clock while I rehearsed various nonchalant ways to get Ginny out. I overanalyzed it to the point that once the clock struck elevent I almost didn't realize it. I mentally kicked myself. Harry had instructed me to have Ginny at Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor at exactly eleven thirteen. Apparently that time had some kind of significance for the two. I didn't question it.

As soon as George finished his explanation and demonstration of a hard candy that cause the growth of a rather impressive beard, I cleared my throat. "That's quite the achievement, George. Ginny, I just remembered I wanted to get some ice cream before going off to America. I'm not very excited for American food, so I wanted to leave on a good note."

"Sure," Ginny said, rising.

"Oh, I would love some ice cream!" George said, rising as well, stroking his impressive beard. However, at my murderous glare he backpedalled, "Unfortunately I'm incredibly busy here. Curses."

Ginny looked at her brother a bit oddly, but after growing up in the Weasley family, very little counted as odd behaviour.

"Ah, then we'll leave you to your work," I said, subtly ushering Ginny out of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

"Ice cream is a rather odd last meal," Ginny observed as we strolled down the sidewalk. "I've heard good things about American ice cream. I would've guessed you would want fist and chips or something like that."

"Cravings are strange things," I said with a shrug.

I could tell that Ginny didn't fully believe me, but I was confident that she didn't suspect the truth. Glancing at my watch, I sighed in relief to see that we were right on time. Opening the door, I exclaimed, "Harry! Fancy seeing you here."

As we planned, Harry was in place doing a fantastic job of looking and acting natural. It was only the fact that I was his best friend that let me see how truly nervous he was.

Ginny smirked at her boyfriend. "Are you stalking me, Harry Potter?"

"Do I need to?" Harry asked with that cocky grin of his. The two leaned in for a kiss and I cleared my throat.

"I'm going to make a run to the ladies' room," was the only thing I could think of.

And so I stood there in the ladies' room, staring at my own reflection. When I heard Ginny's impressively loud squeal of "Yes!" I was conflicted. I was ecstatic for Harry and Ginny; no two people deserved it more. But the emotions felt twisted, and the scene of Ron proposing was all too prevalent in my mind. I didn't expect Harry and Ginny to part the same way, instead I was greeted with the nagging suspicion that Ron had cheated because something was wrong with me. It was an irrational thought I knew, but it was a persistent one.

I clutched the sides of the sink, staring at my own reflection. I felt like it should be distorted in some way, the way I had looked in the shattered mirror that rested in my closet. _I_ felt shattered, not in a heartbroken sense, rather in the sense that I was broken, possibly in a way that couldn't be fixed.

Remembering the torrent of emotion accompanying my own proposal, I knew the couple wouldn't miss me, making it all the easier to slip away. I arrived at the airport a little over an hour early, and since my visit to Flourish and Blott's had been interrupted, I was forced to seek out several Muggle books. I had been hoping to spend the plane ride researching, but instead I selected several American bestseller in hopes of learning more about the culture.

Despite all of my intentions and preparations, I spent a good portion of my time staring out the window at impossible heights. I felt slightly queasy-I wasn't particularly fond of heights-but at least in a plane I could appreciate the beauty of the scenery. On a broom I was always too consumed by my seemingly impending demise.

After a series of layovers, I found myself in the bustling Salt Lake City airport. The drastic relocation was just what I needed to push my emotions into the back of my mind. I'd never had a reason to go to Utah or Idaho before, and all I knew to associate with the two states were Mormons and potatoes respectively.

I don't know what I expected. Utah didn't look alien the way some places did when you first visited. But what didn't meet my expectations was Hazel. At most I expected a modest sign with my name. What I found was Hazel hyperactively waving a massive glittery sign welcoming me back to America.

It was painful to look at, and I was tempted to stow away on an airplane.

Hazel squealed when she saw me, and I knew it was too late to escape. What ensued was a car ride filled with excited chatter. The car ride felt like it lasted eons longer than the plane ride had. Hazel's chatter continued when we made it to the Pocatello branch of MACUSA. It was a steady stream even as she placed form after form in front of me.

After a while Hazel's chatter began to feel kind of comforting. Unlike other "fans" of mine, Hazel at least had some tact and she avoided any mention of Ron. She frequently asked questions, but I rarely had to answer them because she would immediately answer them with whatever she thought the answer was.

Before I realized it, Hazel began growing on me. She was growing like a fungus, but she was growing on me nonetheless.

* * *

 **A/N: So Hermione made it to America! Things are going to start picking up pretty quickly now that I'm out of school for a while. Thanks to a guest comment I've decided to keep updating once a week but try to make the chapters longer. I appreciate the feedback, and now that I've written my last thirteen-page essay for a few months I'll try to pick up the pace. I just didn't want to start major plot points and then have to drop the writing for the sake of finals. I want to deliver writing that is enjoyable to read that I can also be proud of.**

 **A shoutout to gracefulhorse for their comment correcting a typo from last chapter that I've fixed since. I literally was drifting in and out of sleep while I typed and my mind switched out one philosopher for another. I was more awake typing this chapter, so hopefully there are less typos.**

 **Follows, favorites and reviews all encourage me greatly to keep writing!**


	16. The Barista

Chapter 16: The Barista

The time change was going to kill me. My body was programmed to function senev hours ahead of the time zone I was in. I had meant to brew a potion to remedy this, but I hadn't had time and I'd forgotten to bring several ingredients that were illegal in the States.

However, I was determined to finish all of the paperwork in a single day, even though I had already been awake for what felt like hours upon hours. This made for what felt like the latest night of my life, quickly followed by the earliest morning.

Unfortunately I woke up on time. Even more unfortunately, Hazel showed up right on time to show me around Pocatello before she had to leave for Alabama, where she lived and worked. This trip was helping me realize that Hazel was quickly becoming a friend, and a valuable one at that. I couldn't deny that she still had a talent for being annoying, but I had been too harsh when I first met her.

The morning brought out the worst in me, especially when Hazel's chirpy voice was my wake-up call. I groaned before yelling, "Just a moment!"

I somehow managed to pick out an outfit that looked halfway decent before I simply twisted my hair up and stuck a pencil through it. It was one of those days that if I had tried to tame my hair, it would have broken the comb or simply eaten it.

Stumbling out of my hotel room, I coughed a bir. "I need coffee," I said flatly.

Hazel smiled widely. "Someone showed me a fantastic place in Old Town, I just need to remember how to get there."

I rubbed my temples. Normally sleep deprivation wouldn't affect me so drastically, but this was built on weeks of sleep deprivation. "Is the shop a Muggle one, or is it magical?"

Hazel blinked. "It's run by these witches-"

"Let's apparate there," I interrupted. "I know the laws are strict, but just this once can we please apparate?"

Hazel smiled slyly. "Okay, just this once."

My anticipation for the coffee was replaced by a raw desperation when we appeared in front of two elegant doors with a sign that read, "Closed for Maintenance."

Fingers clutching her arm, I said, "I _need_ coffee."

"Starbucks it is," Hazel squeaked.

Not soon enough we found ourselves at Starbucks, and I stumbled in resembling a zombie more than myself. It was for the best that none of my friends could see me right now, because they would give me the lecture of my life about self care. I honestly don't remember what I ordered, but soon Hazel and I were waiting in line to collect our drinks.

When the worker called out my name, I froze. For one, he said my name correctly, but I _knew_ that voice. Was I hallucinating from sleep deprivation? There was no way…

Hazel hummed appreciatively. "Mmm, he is drop dead gorgeous, _and_ he's got an accent. That's a British accent, right? I get them all mixed up sometimes. If he weren't a No-Maj… Mmmm."

"It's a British accent," I confirmed, truly beginning to question my sanity. I slowly stepped forward to accept my coffee, finally daring to look at the barista that was growing more and more impatient.

Keen silver eyes locked onto mine. "Are you Hermione?"

"Yes," I said faintly. "Thank you, Draco."

My heart was pounding, and I tried to think of any reason that Draco Malfoy would be working as a barista at Starbucks in Pocatello Idaho. However, he stared at me back. "I'm sorry, what did you call me? Is that some sort of insult?"

"Shut up!" Hazel screeched, causing all occupants of Starbucks to wince. " _This_ is Draco Malfoy? Our barista?"

Malfoy blinked, confusion crossing his face. "Do you know me?"

He was clearly absolutely befuddled, but I was as well. The man before me was undeniably Draco Malfoy, but he didn't recognize me in the slightest. Meanwhile, we were the sole focus of absolutely everyone in Starbucks.

Hesitantly, the barista at the register stepped over to where Draco and I were trying to find some understanding via staring at one another like dead fish. "Excuse me, do you really know him?"

I glanced at her. "Yes, we went to school together. His name is Draco Malfoy. I actually came to America to find him."

An indiscernible mixture of emotions trekked over the barista's face. "He's gotten a lot of attention lately. How do I know you're not faking an accent and making this all up?"

I plucked my forgotten coffee from Draco's hand, taking a long drink to hopefully combat the headache that was currently pounding my brain with a sledgehammer. "Excuse me?"

The barista sighed. "This man showed up one day injured and with no memories whatsoever. We're short staffed today, so neither of us can leave now. If you come back at one we'll both be off on our lunch break."

Unfortunately my coffee hadn't worked its magic yet. I repeated, "Excuse me?"

"Look," the barista said, "I'm not going to trust a complete stranger with his life. You know him? It's a miracle. But I need proof. We have lunch at one. You have until then to find something to prove that he is who you say."

Without another word the barista resumed her place at the cash register and Malfoy handed Hazel her coffee. A lot of emotions rested in his silver eyes, the foremost being confusion and hope.

It didn't take long for the caffeine to hit my system. It was supplemented by the slightest chance of success, which was an even more potent drug to me. I had a matter of hours to find whatever it would take to prove that he was in fact Draco Malfoy.

Back at my hotel room I furiously began searching through my beaded bag. I felt madness encroaching. "It's not here, none of it is here."

Hazel stared at my frenzied search with wide eyes. "Hermione, are you okay?"

I was close to hyperventilating. "Something bad is coming, Hazel. I can feel it. Death Eaters are rising, and Draco and I will both be prime targets and he's stuck in America with nothing to prove that he is Draco Malfoy, and he doesn't remember anything, and-"

"Breathe slowly," Hazel commanded forcefully.

I forced myself to try, and as I took a shuddering breath, I realized how close I'd been to having a panic attack. With an encouraging smile Hazel said, "You were able to find him your first morning of being in America. Yes, there was quite a bit of luck involved with the whole coffee mess, but out of the entire world you were able to pinpoint this city, something I doubt any other witch in the world would even begin to know how to do so. You've got immense knowledge and luck on your side. This is the easy part."

I found myself nodding with Hazel's reasoning. I was starting to think rationally again. Trying to swallow past the rising panic, I asked, "Has my permit for International Apparation been approved? I barely remember last night."

Hazel shook her head. "I tried to streamline the process, but the soonest it can get approved is tomorrow." She hesitated before continuing, "But I do have a permit. If we were to apparate together then it would be under my permission."

Despite the turmoil of my emotions, I found myself smiling. "Have you ever been to London before?"

"No."

"Well, it's not the most exciting," I deadpanned, knowing what this was going to mean to Hazel, "but you'll get to see my place."

Hazel looked like Christmas had come early. Linking arms, we apparated away.

It felt like it had been ages since I'd seen my apartment. There was something innately comforting about being surrounded by my world, especially after travelling to America and having what I thought I knew turned on its head.

But I wasn't here to reminisce. While Hazel gawked and "discretely" poked through my belongings, I tore through my apartment like a woman possessed. Right then I really wished that Hogwarts would have had someone taking pictures other than Colin Creevey. A yearbook would have been worth its weight in gold at that moment.

Proving the existence and identity of Draco Malfoy turned out to be millions of times harder than it should have been. I paced, obsessively checking my watch (set to Pocatello time). In an hour and a half, all I'd been able to amass was a blurry photo from our third year and a handful of newspaper pictures, all newly spelled not to move. (That alone had been an exercise of my patience.) After a lot of internal debate, I added the Malfoy ring to the pile, but I wondered if it counted as evidence if Draco couldn't identify it.

"I don't know if this will be enough, Hazel," I said, staring at the measly amount of evidence I had before me. Panic was rising once again. "Malfoy is going to be stuck in America while his mother mourns him."

"Hermione, calm down, it will be o-"

"No," I snapped a little harshly. "No, I almost broke completely when I thought my parents would never remember me, but at least I knew they were _alive._ Malfoy might never remember anyone, but that is nothing compared to what his parents and friends are feeling right now. I told them he was dead, Hazel. As someone who has seen the deaths of too many people I care about, I'm going to personally keep Draco Malfoy safe until the day I can tell them their nightmares are just nightmares."

Hazel's eyes were almost comically round. Cautiously she said, "Are you oka- I mean, do you need to talk, Hermione?"

"I need sleep, I need this Death Eater uprising to be stopped, and I need Draco Malfoy to be able to live the life he deserves," I said. "And for that to happen I need solid proof that he is who I say. I will not risk this on having halfway reliable proof."

"We can just obliviate the No-Maj," Hazel offered.

"And how would we explain that to Draco?" I asked, folding my arms. "We'd likely have to obliviate him as well to keep him from panicking, and we don't know how that would affect his brain, and he already has memory loss."

"Okay, is there anyone who could help you gather proof? Someone that wouldn't ask too many questions?" Hazel asked.

"I didn't want to involve him more than I already have, but this is urgent." Offering Hazel my arm I continued, "You get to see a bit more of Britain."

The time difference meant that Blaise Zabini was eating dinner alone in his apartment when we apparated in. Blaise gave an undignified shriek at our sudden arrival, the sound of which set me off into a fit of laughter.

"Merlin's saggy pants, Granger, you can't just do that! Stop laughing, you're bloody supposed to be in America! What in gulping gargoyles are you doing in my flat?" he demanded.

"You see-"

"I know you can apparate in here, but it's common courtesy-"

"Zabini, shut up for once in your life," I said, my laughter finally under control. "We will discuss your girlish shriek later. We don't have a lot of time right now. I need any pictures you have of Malfoy doing non-magical things if we're going to get him out of America. We also need any objects you have that he might recognize."

His eyes rested on me. "If it were anyone else, Granger, I would say they were barking mad. I'll do what you ask, but know that I will be demanding a full explanation when things blow over."

As Blaise left to begin his search I realized with a start that Hazel was here. I had never known her to be that quiet for that long. Her eyes rested on Zabini's thin form as he moved about his flat, and I had to keep myself from groaning. I didn't have time for Hazel to be interested in Blaise, especially with the way that Blaise reacted to any female attention.

When Blaise went into his bedroom, she scuttled over to me. "So that's Blaise Zabini?"

"Mhmm," I said, attempting to organize things in the Muggle bag I'd brought for evidence.

"We don't know a lot about him since he wasn't a large part of the war," Hazel said almost dreamily. "He was in your year at Hogwarts and he was friends with Malfoy. That's all we have on him."

"There's a fair bit more to me than that," Blaise called from the other room. "Obviously my dashing good looks are an important part of the equation."

I smiled. "He's also one of the most conceited Slytherins you'll ever meet," I smirked. "That is an accomplishment all on its own."

"Well Granger is more of a know-it-all than the entire Ravenclaw house," Zabini called back. "I take it you're part of that American fan club?"

"Yes," Hazel squeaked. "I'm the vice-president. Hazel. My name is Hazel."

Zabini came back in laden with various items, which he unceremoniously dumped onto the floor where I had been sorting my own evidence. I grumbled, setting to work on the photos he had.

Blaise smiled that certain smile that had earned him a spot on _Witch Weekly's_ Most Eligible Wizards list. "Well it's nice to meet you, Hazel. I apologize for Granger's terrible manners. I've been trying to instruct her on proper etiquette, but alas-"

"You'll want to watch what you say," I warned. "I have blackmail as well as an extensive arsenal of hexes."

"Alas, Granger is already perfection," Blaise backpedalled hurriedly.

Glancing at my watch, I cursed under my breath. "Hazel and I need to go. As always, thanks Zabini. I'd be lost without you."

"No, my best mate would be lost forever without you," Blaise said seriously. "Please curb your Gryffindor ways and try to get yourself and Draco back without any near death experiences."

I smiled thinly at Blaise. "I'll try." As I got deeper and deeper into this plot, I felt the reality of Death Eaters returning hanging over my head like a guillotine. As I took Hazel's arm so we could apparate together, I sincerely hoped that those wouldn't be the last words I ever spoke to Blaise.

* * *

 **A/N: And I'm back! I promised you things would start picking up. Sorry it's a few days late, I had some family things, as well as a nasty case of writer's block. I'm still not totally satisfied with this chapter, but it's leagues better than the original. If I had posted what I originally wrote it would be offensive to my readers and a disgrace to my writing. Let me know what you think! As always follows and reviews are hugely motivational.**


	17. Evidence

Chapter 17: Evidence

I had just enough time to look through everything, both assessing what was there and double-checking that all pictures were stationary. We apparated back to Pocatello with minutes to spare. Starbucks was surprisingly crowded, but Draco and the muggle that had taken him in noticed us immediately. She grabbed Draco by the collar of his shirt and began dragging him away.

The two appeared at the front of the restaurant, freed of their aprons. The woman sighed. I really don't want to like you, but if nothing else you saved us from that crowd." She stuck out a hand. "I'm Cora."

I shook her hand firmly. "Hermione Granger. And this is my friend Hazel."

Cora shook Hazel's hand as well. "Well, let's go find a quiet place to eat and… discuss."

I don't remember the name of the place, but it was lovely with a fantastic potato soup. (I was in Idaho after all.) After we ordered our food, there was a tense silence around the table.

Clearing my throat, I pulled out the most recent picture of Draco, a newspaper article detailing his disappearance. (I had decided it wouldn't have helped matters to bring the articles about Draco's death.) This picture was the clearest I had of him, a strong, stoic figure with intimidating silver eyes. "Your name is Draco Malfoy," I said, sliding the article across the table for both to see. "You're twenty-three years old, and you work in your family's business, managing most of the company."

To back this up, I pulled out several more newspaper articles talking about this "business." (It had taken a lot of magical tampering to make it muggle-worthy.) All included similarly intimidating pictures of Malfoy.

"Okay, he looks like this missing Draco Malfoy," Cora said, crossing her arms. "But why should I trust you with him? For all I know you're just a rabid fan of his."

"We went to school together, a special private school in Scotland. I was a scholarship kid, so we didn't necessarily get on when we first met," I said, pulling out the one photo I had of Draco and I together. It was a blurry one of us in our third year. I had been posing for Colin Creevey with Ron and Harry. (We had obliged him only because it was the first day back to school and Colin promised not to ask for anymore pictures until after Christmas.)

Moments before the picture was taken, Malfoy had noticed and decided to stroll behind us. I secretly loved this picture because Malfoy's sneer simultaneously reduced me to giggles and made it impossible for newspapers to use when reminiscing about the "golden trio."

"Draco and I were in different… classes all throughout school, so we didn't have the same friends. This is me with my best friends, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. We were all thirteen in this picture," I explained.

Once Cora had her look at the picture, Draco examined the picture inches from his face. "I look like such an unpleasant child."

I coughed. "Your father raised you to look down on the scholarship kids like my friends and me, but you grew out of it as we got older. Because of all that I don't have many photos with Draco, but I did talk to one of Draco's best friends before I left England, and he had photos of the two of them."

As I pulled out Blaise's stack of photos I began explaining the relationships Draco had had with each person in the pictures. Cora merely looked at the pictures to compare the younger versions of Draco Malfoy to the man sitting next to her. Draco, however, studied each picture with intensity and near-desperation.

Glancing back in the bag of evidence, I grimaced slightly at some of the things Blaise had included. We would have to review what was and what wasn't muggle-worthy.

"Draco has a skull and snake tattoo on the inside of his left forearm. It's starting to fade, and I'm fairly sure he prefers it that way," I said, watching as he rolled up his left sleeve to display his dark mark.

Placing the Malfoy family ring on the table, I said, "This is the Malfoy crest. This ring has been passed down for generations. Before today I have never seen you without it on."

Cora barely had time to look at the ring before Draco snatchied the ring and slid it onto the middle finger of his left hand, the same finger I had always seen it on before.

"It feels like it fits," he said quietly. "More than fits, it belongs."

Looking at Draco intensely, Cora asked, "Has it sparked any memories?"

"No," he said reluctantly, "but it feels right. Everything she's said… clicks."

"You're not just trusting this chick because she's got the same accent as you, right?" Cora asked.

"No, I trust her because this is the first thing someone has told me that makes sense," Draco said. There was more confidence in the lines of his face than I had seen on him all day.

Cora reluctantly said, "She certainly has enough proof and knowledge of you."

Even though the woman believed me, I could tell she was worried. Pulling out a notebook, I started scribbling onto the first page. "This is my phone number. Feel free to call me for updates on Draco. Once we're back in England we can get Draco's phone number to you."

"Thank you," she said quietly, accepting the the paper. She promptly turned and slugged Malfoy in the arm. "If you don't call me I'll beat you."

"I promise, Cora," he said, discreetly rubbing his arm.

"So how are you getting back to England?" Cora asked.

"I have just enough money to get both of us plane tickets back," I said. "I work for the government so I'm not rich, but I've got the money. Besides, Draco's parents will doubtlessly insist on paying both of us back."

"I don't care about that, I just want to make sure he's safe," Cora said flatly.

"That's all I want as well," I said.

"When will you go back to England?"

"The soonest flight with open seats is early tomorrow morning. I would stay longer, but I need to get back to work as soon as possible," I explained. I hesitated a moment before asking, "Did he have anything with him? When you found him, I mean."

"Just the clothes on his back," Cora said.

"And that stick you said was weird," Draco reminded her.

My heart hammered in my chest. "A stick? Was is black? Looked like a wizard's wand from a fantasy novel?"

"You know about that stupid thing?" Cora groaned. "Just how lame are you, Draco Malfoy?"

I smiled to cover the anxiety flooding through me. Draco's wand had always seemed volatile to me, and I didn't want it to obliviate Cora because she had mishandled the wand and it blew up her house. "Draco was a bit of a _Dungeons and Dragons_ fanatic when he was younger. He made that wand to replicate his character's wand," I lied.

As Cora groaned Draco looked embarrassed. "What's _Dungeons and Dragons_? It sounds barbaric."

"It's only the nerdiest game ever," Cora said. "Maybe that explains why you have so much useless knowledge about fantasy worlds, but you don't know how to use a toaster."

"I know how to use one now," Draco said defensively. The two bantered back and forth similarly until Cora glanced at her watch.

"We need to get back to work," she said, pulling out her wallet.

"Lunch is on me," I insisted. "How do you want to do this? Shall I pick Draco up after work?"

"I can drop him off wherever you're staying," Cora said. "We'll be working fairly late."

I suspected Cora really just wanted a chance to say goodbye, so I nodded before giving the name and number of my hotel.

Once those two were gone, Hazel and I found a secluded alleyway to apparate from. At the hotel I sincerely thanked her. "You have no idea how much I needed you," I told her honestly.

Our conversation was interrupted by an indignant horned owl tapping on the window. I opened it to receive an official-looking envelope sealed with the official MACUSA seal.

I opened it to find an international apparition license in gold ink.

Hazel's eyes went round. "I've never seen a gold one in person."

"It's pretty, I suppose," I said. "What matters is it makes it legal for me to do what I need to."

"No, this is _the_ apparition license. They're lifelong and valid in almost every country. They're usually only issued to country leaders and the like," Hazel said in awe. "Can I- can I touch it?"

I handed the paper to Hazel, which she held reverently. "It says you were awarded this for your contributions to world safety and medical developments in the wizarding world."

She looked at me intently, as if expecting me to be overcome with emotion. After a long moment I said, "Nice." Thinking on it a little longer, I smiled. "Ronald will be furious."

Hazel was a little worn out and she really needed to get back to Alabama, so soon after I said my goodbyes before falling into my hotel bed.

I almost immediately fell into a dream, almost like the dream had been waiting for me. Or more likely, I was so sleep deprived that these were the hallucinations I'd somehow staved off until now.

I was barefoot in a meadow glistening with morning dew. The sky was indistinct, merely white light. It was peaceful, serene, unlike most things in my life. I simply basked in the feeling, along with the sensation of dew-laden grass under my bare feet.

A voice shattered the silence. "You found him, Miss Granger. You found him."

I twirled around to find Narcissa Malfoy daintily crying with Lucius standing stoically by her side.

"See Granger? I knew you could do it," said another voice, one belonging to Blaise Zabini who stood directly behind me.

More and more people joined them to congratulate me for finding Malfoy, people like Harry and Ginny, Neville, Luna, some of my coworkers… Before long I was surrounded by all of the people I cared for in the wizarding world.

A green light flooded my vision and when it cleared, every one of those people laid lifeless on the floor. Standing over Harry's body was a Death Eater in a full rove and silver mask.

"You can't hide from us forever, Hermione Granger, nor can you keep the young Malfoy from us. He will either take his place among his brothers and continue what the Dark Lord began, or he will be slaughtered with the rest of the resistors," the hooded figure said.

Tears burned my eyes as my heart pounded like a bass drum. "We won when you had far more support than you do now," I said with far more confidence than I actually possessed.

"And you need to remember that," said a voice I'd never heard before. It belonged to a man that looked familiar, but I couldn't think of where I had seen him. He continued, "Miss Granger, you must keep the young Malfoy safe and secret at least until his memories return."

"I had already planned on that," I said distractedly. "Who are you? Will Death Eaters truly murder all of my friends?"

"It's impossible to say, Miss Granger. But I can say that you'll play a vital part in this," the man said regretfully. "If there were any other way… I'm sorry Miss Granger, but it must be you. For now, though, it's time you wake up."

And I did. My eyes snapped open, the sight of the hotel room slowly replacing the image of my loved ones lying dead.

There was a knock coming from the door, so I rose to get it, silently wondering about the state of my hair.

Cora and Draco stood there, a mix of emotions exuding from the two. Cora cleared her throat, "Those are the clothes I found him in, and here's his sentimental stick or whatever."

I carefully accepted Draco's wand from her. "Thank you. I know it means a lot to him. I promise to keep you updated on him."

Cora nodded stiffly before turning to Draco. "I guess this is it, kid. Take care of yourself." She shot me a look that clearly said if I mistreated Draco she would hunt me down. Then she abruptly turned on her heel, stalking away without once looking back.

"Come on in," I said, distracting Draco from staring down the hallway that Cora had walked down. As he followed me in, I nervously twirled his wand in my hands, debating on what and how to tell him about everything. We would have to apparate home, that much was obvious, I didn't have a passport or any kind of identification (which I would be eternally grateful that Cora overlooked). I felt like the longer we spent in America the more we were asking to be found by Death Eaters. I longed for my own bed and extensive wards.

I handed Draco his wand. "This is yours, but I fibbed a bit about it to Cora. You don't own it because you're a _Dungeons and Dragons_ enthusiast, in fact I doubt you've ever heard of _Dungeons and Dragons_ before."

"So why do I have a 'sentimental stick' then?" Draco asked skeptically.

I took a deep breath. "Because it's a real wand. You're a wizard, Draco, and I'm a witch. I couldn't tell that to Cora because she's a muggle, a non-magical person, and we must keep the wizarding world a secret from them."

Studying Draco's face to see how he was taking the information. I worried for a few heartbeats that he would chase Cora down, demanding not to be left with me.

Instead a relieved smile spread across his face. "Oh thank Merlin, I'm not a nutter."

* * *

 **A/N: I'm so sorry, this is an entire week late! I started not one, but two summer jobs, so I barely have time to sleep. let alone write. I'm going to make it a goal to post once a week like I have been, but I can only do what I can do. As always, let me know what you think. This is still an exercise in improving my writing skills, so feel free to tell me what you like, what could use some work! Till next time, lovely readers!**


	18. True Colors

Chapter 18: True Colors

"You remember the wizarding world?" I asked, about to cry with relief.

"I know how things are supposed to be," Draco said, his silver eyes less terrified than I'd seen them all day. "I can't remember anything about me or the people I knew. I was afraid that whatever happened to me screwed up my head completely. Whenever I felt confident in the way something worked, Cora would grimace and say, 'Actually…' My mind was filled with nonsense and I was lost in an alien world."

Placing my hand gently on his arm, I looked deeply into his eyes. "You're not mad. If you have any questions you can ask me. Meanwhile, I'm going to be looking into restoring your memory."

He searched my face. "You're serious? This isn't some elaborate prank?"

"I swear." I looked at the clock. "It's late, but we need to get back in England as soon as possible. I'm going to go check out and then we'll leave."

In the hotel lobby I was greeted by an attendant staring at the computer. I doubted she was actually awake. Clearing my throat, I said, "Excuse me." When she didn't stir, I raised my voice a bit. "Excuse me!"

She startled. "Wha- I mean, how can I help you?"

"I'd like to check out. I understand I may have to pay for an additional day. That's fine," I said.

The girl blinked. "Ma'am, it's ten-forty-seven at night."

"I'm aware," I said. "Something came up, and I need to check out as soon as possible."

"Okay, let me get this taken care of," she said, typing away at the computer.

As I stood there, I wanted to slap myself. It was doubtful, but if the Death Eaters had even one person that was halfway decent at finding information in the Muggle world, then I was done for. Blaise's inclusion in the discovery of Draco's "body" would be enough to make them suspicious of the truth of Draco's death. With my name found in Pocatello, it wouldn't be hard for a Death Eater to come and ascertain that Draco Malfoy was very much alive.

Drat. After years of security I was starting to get sloppy about covering my tracks. While the girl at the desk typed away, I snatched a nearby piece of hotel stationary and scribbled a quick note to Hazel, asking her to book a hotel room under my name in decent-sized cities all over America, one per night for the entire week. Hopefully that would look like I was touring America, helping out their various branches of MACUSA like I'd told everyone I was. Slipping the note into my pocket, I vowed to send it to Hazel the second I had access to an owl.

Once I had officially checked out, I practically sprinted up the stairs to find Draco waiting, awkwardly holding my bags. "You really packed light for America, didn't you? I seem to recall witches being more high maintenance than this."

I just smiled. "Never mind that, we need to get you clothes and toiletries and whatnot, but we need to go to a place where you won't be recognized."

"And why shouldn't I be recognized?" Draco asked, crossing his arms.

"I'll explain it once we're back in London, safe behind wards," I said. "For now, please just trust me."

Draco nodded and took my arm when I offered it. I glanced around to make sure the hallway was empty before apparating, the familiar sensation only slightly uncomfortable.

I assumed apparating fell in the category of things Draco remembered. His only reaction to it all was to look around skeptically at the Walmart I had apparated us into.

"We need to get you clothes and such," I explained. "This is a Muggle store."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure this store has what we need?"

"Yeah, it's got everything," I said, internally snickering about the thought of Draco Malfoy wearing polyester.

"They don't have robes here," Draco noted, craning his neck to look at the clothes section.

"You'll have to wear Muggle clothes for a while. We're both too well-known in the wizarding world," I explained, still smiling a bit.

"I'm trusting you for now, but I expect a very thorough explanation of everything," Draco said, allowing himself to be dragged into the store.

While I stocked up on clothes that were simple (and cheap) like sweatpants, tee shirts, and basketball shorts, Draco somehow managed to sniff out the most expensive clothes in Walmart (which meant cotton button-up shirts and second-rate slacks).

After conceding that Draco could have two sets of nicer clothes, I tried to make quick work of all other necessities: socks, deodorant, shoes, and to my mortification, underwear.

Draco clearly enjoyed my embarrassment. "How do you know they'll fit?"

"You know resizing charms," I said staunchly. "Do you have anything you want to eat? I need groceries as well."

He thought for a moment. "Whatever your favorite pudding is. Americans just don't know good pudding."

I nodded and began collecting what groceries I needed. Draco seemed fascinated by the conveyor belt when we checked out, and then questions of how my card gave the store money, and thankfully the disinterested clerk just handed me my receipt and all but shooed me out of the store.

Laden with rustling bags, the two of us walked behind some dumpsters where we were sure not to be seen. Once more Draco took my arm, although there was some difficulty with the absurd amount of stuff we had.

After a moment of internal debate, I apparated to my house rather than my flat. Back home it wasn't night, but early, _early_ morning; the sun hadn't even thought of making an appearance yet.

I was exhausted as I unceremoniously dumped all of the shopping bags on the floor of the living room. Draco set his bags down with a great deal more care than me. He looked around with wide eyes. "Is this a Muggle home?"

"No, this is my house. I have a few Muggle things in here like the television, but from what I've observed it's like most wizard homes," I said. "Why do you ask?"

Draco hesitated. "It feels wrong for a magical home to have so much… color."

I barked a laugh at that. "You may just be a bit biased on that."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you grew up in Malfoy Manor, yeah? I've been inside and I've never seen a place with less color. I think someone even magically changed the color of the book covers to be black. It has beautiful gardens, but inside is so completely black and gray that I begin to half-wonder if I've gone color blind. Then at Hogwarts you were in the Slytherin house, and the common room and such are in the dungeons so there's not much light. I also half-wonder if your father helped decorate in there too. There might be a bit of green…" I trailed off, trying to recall the specifics of the Slytherin common room.

"What I'm hearing is two cases where I'm right in saying your house is strangely colorful," Draco said with a smirk.

"I could name a dozen magical families whose houses are at least as colorful as mine, if not more so," I defended.

"Let's hear it then," he challenged.

"The Weasleys. Any of their children. Harry Potter. Lavender  
Brown. Neville Longbottom. Minerva McGonagall. Shall I go on?" I said, raising an eyebrow.

He held up his hands in surrender. "I know when I'm beaten."

"Good. If it's unsettling I can spell the decorations in your room to be black," I offered.

"No, I didn't say that I don't like it. I just find it… odd. In a good way," Draco hurried to add.

I chuckled. "I think we're both exhausted. I'll show you to your room." At Draco's reproachful look I said, "I know I promised an explanation, but this is a _long_ story. It's quite complicated, and we are both clearly not functioning at our highest level. I swear, the second you're ready for the story I will tell you as much or as little as you want."

Part of Draco clearly wanted all of this information immediately, but he hesitantly nodded. "I think I'm going to pass out the moment I sit down," he confessed. "That's fair enough."

Something in me threw all previous plans to the wind. I originally thought to stick him in either Harry's room or Ron's room. (The boys had unofficial rooms for when they stayed over, but Ron's remained largely untouched save for when I went and burned every possession he left behind. Harry didn't like my flat as much because he was left with a couch rather than an entire room. Both rooms were on the other end of the house so they couldn't lecture me on how late I stayed up.)

Instead, I found myself leading Draco to the room right across the hall from mine. It hadn't had an occupant the entire time that I had owned the house. Upon seeing the room I had decided to decorate it with dark wood furniture and forest green decor. As with all of my rooms, the walls were dominated by large bookcases stuffed almost beyond capacity.

Draco looked around. "It's still a lot of color, but I like it."

"Oh, don't be dramatic," I said with a yawn. I summoned his newly purchased clothes and directed them into the drawers of the massive oak dresser. "I imagine you're rather exhausted. Here are your bedclothes. The bathroom is next door. If you need anything don't be afraid to wake me. Chances are I'm already going to be awake. My room is across the hall. Did I already say this? I feel like I already said this."

He fingered the plaid pajama pants in agitation. "Thank you."

I cocked my head at him. "Are you okay?"

To be fair, it was an incredibly stupid question. Neither of us looked okay. Draco had dark bags under his eyes, those same eyes that held a conflict he didn't fully understand. I'm sure I was a nightmare to behold. My hair felt like prime avian real estate, and the threat of Death Eaters hung over my head. It would be a long time before either of us could be described as okay.

Draco hesitated before talking. "You hinted that I was kind of a terror to you when we were in school."

"I would just like to point out that I did punch you in the face," I said with a smile.

"But if we hated each other so badly then, why are you going to such lengths to help me?"

It was a fair question, and one that had haunted me since I had begun on this crusade. "Part of it is because everyone deserves to have someone willing to search to the ends of the earth with them. But I've seen how hard you've worked to become a better person and put your mistakes and prejudices behind you. And now Draco Malfoy is standing in front of me with no memory of any of those things. This version of you should get the opportunity to choose how you're going to live your life. There are a lot of reasons, I suppose. I could try to explain it for hours, but at the same time words can't really explain how or why I feel the overwhelming urge to help and protect you."

When I realized exactly how much I had said, I drew into myself a bit. "Sorry, I'm rambling. Ron always hated when I did that. I can-"

"I'm not Ron," Draco interrupted. "I may not remember him, but I can tell he's a bloody fool because I could listen to you talk for days."

His silver eyes bore into mine and I felt… unsettled. The memory loss had to have also done something to Draco's personality or perception, because it felt like Draco Malfoy was _flirting_ with _me._

"You must be exhausted," I said, ignoring the slight blush I felt on my cheeks. "Just knock on my door if you need anything. Tomorrow I'll explain the entire story to you, just like I promised."

Draco nodded and disappeared, leaving me to wonder about his mental condition. Tests would have to start tomorrow. I also had to wonder why I felt so unsettled and the tiniest bit… bereft.

* * *

 **A/N: Hey guys, I'm alive! I just got home from a family reunion in New Mexico. It was great, and I jumped right back into the swing of things. I'm still working two jobs, so new chapters won't be as consistent as I like. Thanks for waiting patiently, everyone. As always, please follow and PLEASE review if you have anything at all to say it. Sorry this chapter is a little short, we'll see what this summer brings. You're all my insptiration.**


	19. Self Discovery

Chapter 19: "Self" Discovery

"I was one of them?" Draco demanded, disgusted. "I helped enslave the wizarding world?"

Draco had only slept for a few hours when he came, ready to knock down my bedroom door, demanding the _full_ explanation. That meant that I had to start at the very beginning. For clarity's sake I cut out as many people as possible, and for time's sake I tried to condense our school years as much as possible.

It hurt to see Draco looking so disgusted with himself. "Yes, you joined them," I said grudgingly. "But even then I could see how much you hated it. I don't know why you joined in the first place, but you chose not to join them again, and I feel like that's what really counts."

Draco was silent. Staring him in the eyes, I said, "For what it's worth, I don't hold any of it against you."

"How? How can you not after all the things we did to Muggleborns?" he asked.

"There are some people I can't forgive yet," I said. "But I saw how it hurt you to be even a small part of those events. You made a mistake, but you didn't make it twice. You've changed for the better."

Sighing, he nodded grudgingly. "I guess that does count for something. Go ahead and continue the story."

And so I did. I gave a brief overview of Voldemort's demise and the major events that came after.

"I don't know a lot about your life after we both finished Hogwarts aside from what was in the papers," I said apologetically. "You were quietly involved in some charity work, but your father was grooming you to work at the Ministry, but I don't think the idea appealed to you."

"Why wouldn't I want to work at the Ministry?" Draco asked, his brow furrowing. For some reason that small gesture made my heart stutter for a moment. I was ready to pass it off as nothing, but my heart nearly stopped when he looked deeply into my eyes and asked genuinely, "Why wouldn't I want to work around you?"

I had always scoffed a bit at the girls who insisted the object of their affections made their hearts race and their palms sweat. It seemed like a cliche that couldn't possibly be reality; even before he mucked everything up with Rita, I had never felt such excitement around Ronald, and I was sure that what I felt for him had been love. There was no way I would be in so much pain still if I hadn't loved him. But what Malfoy was doing to me felt like intense anxiety, but I liked it.

Draco without his memories reminded me of a child in many ways, and I suppose he was a child of sorts, untouched by his life experiences. I still saw flashes of the Draco Malfoy I had known, and this Draco had no cause to guard his emotions.

Clearing my throat as well as my mind, I said," There are a lot more workers at the Ministry than just me. But I think that you just wanted an option. Your whole life has kind of been dictated by expectations of others. You got good marks because that's what Malfoys do. You joined the Death Eaters because so had all your friends and family. I may be completely wrong about all of this, but I think you're going to find something you'll want to devote your life to, and you'll be fantastic at it. Possible the best."

I couldn't tell you where any of that had come from, but I had total confidence in it as I spoke. But if I thought my heart had been acting up before, the look that Draco gave me sent it into full-blown spasms.

"Anyway," I continued, feeling my cheeks warm, "it was about a year ago that we heard of the first incident that we're completely sure was connected to the Death Eater resurgence. A woman named Theodora Goyle reported that her husband went missing. We still don't know if Goyle rejoined the Death Eaters, ,or it they've… dealt with him."

"You mentioned that name before. He was my friend, wasn't he?" Draco asked.

"During our time at Hogwarts, yes," I confirmed. "After his disappearance, we kept finding more and more people previously associated with Death Eaters come up missing, or… dead."

When I saw Draco's emotionless expression, I rushed on. "The Department of Magical Law Enforcement noticed a trend and Har- Auror Potter thought you would be the next victim. That Department was short-staffed at the time, so they enlisted me to take you into hiding until things were safer."

"Auror Potter? _Harry_ Potter? You mean the bloke that I tormented for years? Why would Harry bloody Potter care enough to try and save me? A bloody pair of saints, you two are," Draco said, clearly befuddled.

"Harry also sees how you've changed. Unfortunately the day before I could take you into hiding, you went missing." I took a deep breath and said my last bit all at once. "So I faked your death and tracked you down."

"So that's how you- _you faked my death?_ " Draco demanded.

I smiled weakly. "Your funeral is in two days."

Draco stared at me, completely silent for what felt like eternity. I was trying to formulate an apology for faking his death when he crossed his arms and stated, "We're going."

"What? No we're not, you're dead and I'm in America." I said.

"Polyjuice Potion," he said simply.

"It takes a lot longer than two days to brew it, Draco," I told him.

He raised an eyebrow. "You expect me to believe that the girl who traced me to Idaho doesn't have an emergency stash of Polyjuice Potion?"

He had me there. "I guess you don't need your memory to be an infuriating person. It must be a natural gift."

"So is that a yes?" he asked with a winning smile.

"I'll think about it," I said sternly. "Now if you don't have any other questions, we need to-"

"Hold up, you tell me my life was a lonely mess ruled by other people, and that I'm 'dead' and that's it?" he demanded.

"I told you the whole story-"

"No no no," he interrupted. "You told me _my_ story. What did you do after Hogwarts? How did you end up at the Ministry? And most importantly, is there a man in your life?"

At his eyebrow wiggle, I choked. "What do you think you're doing?"

"The Muggles call it flirting. I may be wrong, but I believe we have it in the wizarding world as well," Draco said with a smarmy grin.

I tried to continue ignoring my irregular heartbeat, but I had to swallow a few times before I could even speak again. "Listen, this isn't happening. I don't know how hard you hit your head, but if you had your memories, you would _not_ be doing this."

"How do you know?" Draco challenged. "You said we hadn't really spoken after the war."

Rubbing my temples, I knew Draco would just keep being impossible like this. "Alright, I don't know for sure. But no flirting until your memory is back, I said sternly.

"I suppose I can live with that," Draco said with a pout. "But you didn't answer my questions."

"Fine, but we really need to get to work as soon as possible," I warned him. "I'm afraid my life is a bit dull. After Hogwarts I spent the summer doing some… independent research. I didn't sleep or see the sun for days on end. I finished that just in time to leave for university."

"Which one?" Draco interrupted.

"I actually went to two, a magical university called Gormagon, and a Muggle university called Oxford."

"And you graduated from both? If you went to one right after the other, you must be fairly new to working at the Ministry…"

"I went to them at the same time," I said quickly, unsure of how to say it so that I didn't come off as pretentious.

"What did you study?" Draco asked.

This made me even more uncomfortable. "Everything? Well, everything aside from Divination and Philosophy. I don't see a point in either subject."

"How do you study everything? What did you graduate with?" he pressed.

"At Gormagon I took every introductory class so I was at least exposed to a little of the subject, but I got certified for a lot of things, such as a Healer, a librarian, and I specialized in history and ancient spells. At Oxford I got a general studies degree, but I learned quite a few languages, and I got minors in business and communications," I said, wondering if I had forgotten anything. "Oh, and I dabbled a bit in neuroscience."

Draco squinted at me. "You claimed your life was dull."

"Most people consider those things dull," I pointed out.

"No, dull is those Muggles who collect trash on a certain point in the week, or sit at a desk all day," Draco argued. "The sheer amount of knowledge you must have… it's stunning, really."

I couldn't stop myself from blushing a bit. "You're mad. After graduating university, the Ministry offered me a job as a sort of consultant. I don't have one department, I work at any department that needs assistance. When all of the Departments are running smoothly, I get to work in whatever department I wish, on whichever project I wish." I hesitated a moment before adding, "And no, there's no man in my life."

Draco's smile was blinding.

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry it's shorter than I've been making them! It's not the most exciting chapter, but it had to happen eventually. I'm still planning on updating as much as possible, but my two jobs are ruining my plans.**

 **Quick shoutout to luxaeterna22 for their reviews, they honestly were the only reason I'm updating this soon. Reviews remind me that people are still reading and actually want to hear this story. To all my American readers, Happy Early Foruth of July!**


	20. Mind Space

Chapter 20: Mind Space

"Are you sure that's where you should put your wand?" Draco asked, staring cross-eyed at my wand, which was positioned at the center of his forehead. "I mean, that could be why whatever you're trying to do isn't working."

"Maybe it's not working because you keep talking," I said, poking his forehead with my wand.

"That can't be it," Draco said confidently, but he did fall silent after that.

"This is going to feel similar to Legillimency, but I promise I won't be able to see any of your thoughts or memories. If it feels like too much of an intrusion, just say so and I'll stop," I said.

Gently resting the tip of my wand on Draco's porcelain forehead, I took a deep breath. I had been trying to get an impression of the state of Draco's mind, but for one reason or another it felt like a heavy, barbed wall surrounded his mind. I would be going in blind now, which I had never done before, but I didn't really have a choice.

Clearing my mind, I closed my eyes and intoned the spell of my own creation. While it was true that I wouldn't be able to see Draco's memories or thoughts, I was able to see what his mind consisted of.

People's minds took on different formats depending on the personality and such of the person. For instance, I'm told that my mind is a library, with all of my memories and thoughts neatly sorted and filed into the correct place. Harry's mind is a quidditch field, where you have to maneuver the right way to catch the right train of thought.

Draco's mind surprised me. A serene meadow unfolded before me, beautiful in its simplicity. It was a place yearning for laughter and sunshine, but the land bore marks of years of brutal, violent weather destroying almost everything that stood in its wake.

Despite the almost rustic setting, there was a clear order in Draco's mind. It was easier than usual to orient myself in his mind, and I intuitively knew what and where everything was.

For some reason Draco's memories were quite a distance away from everything else, like he was holding the past at arm's length. So I walked towards the towering beech trees that stood in the distance.

I hesitated a moment as I got a clearer view of the trees. Even from such a distance I could see that the delicate white tree trunks were scarred violently, the dark brown marring the white bark to the point of disfigurement. And it was in that moment that I began to comprehend the immense pain that came from being Draco Malfoy, the pain that he currently had some respite from.

But I needed to see if I could at least find the cause. I could talk Draco through his options later.

Continuing on, the trees only looked more horrific as I neared them. What I hadn't been able to see, however, was a writhing briar bush, a plant with numerous vines covered in wickedly sharp thorns pulled tightly around where Draco's memories lived.

Wand at the ready, I observed the tendrils of thorns closely. They were unlike anything I had ever seen. Debating with myself, I murmured, "Incendio," sending a massive fireball hurtling towards the vines.

The fire barely grazed them, but the vines reared back with unexpected speed before they came crashing into me. I grunted in pain as the thorns carved deep valleys into my arm. Somehow I had enough presence of mind to stun the plant long enough to break off a small specimen of the plant and flee without any further damage.

In a safer place within Draco's mind, I paused long enough to wrap my arm tightly enough to staunch the bleeding and apply a numbing charm to my arm. After that I spent a while longer in Draco's mind space, long enough to ascertain everything I could from the small vine cutting.

When I was absolutely certain I had all the information I could get, I released my hold on the spell keeping me there. It was always disorienting to return to normal, rather like I was being dumped back into my body.

I collapsed a little into myself, clutching my head. The numbing charm had worked perfectly for my arm, and examining the curious vines had given me a sort of academic high. But now the pain was back in full force, having been relocated to my head rather than my arm.

"Hermione?" I barely heard Draco ask. "Hermione, are you alright? What should I do?"

I groaned. Somehow the pain was getting worse. I could feel each of the marks that had been carved into my flesh, but if felt like it had been carved into my brain itself. Now the marks were _burning._

"Tell me what hurts, Hermione," Draco insisted, and even while I was in immense pain I could register the panic that laced his voice.

Invasion. That's what I felt from the fire that raged in my mind. It tore through my head, razing my memory like colonists claiming a land for their own. The pain heightened until I couldn't hear Draco. I wasn't aware of where I was or what was happening around me.

Just when I was sure it would never end, the flames abated the tiniest bit, then just a bit more until I was left feeling simply mentally exhausted. My mind was battered, but in tact. But I wasn't ready to open my eyes quite yet. Instead I focused on breathing as my other senses filtered through.

My head was resting somewhere soft, and hands cradled the sides of it. I could barely catch a low voice whispering my name again and again like a plea.

When I did open my eyes, I saw the white ceiling above me. I blinked a few times before gingerly sitting up.

"Hermione!" Draco cried, throwing his arms around me. "What happened? Do you remember anything?"

"My memory is perfectly in tact," I assured Draco, blushing a bit when my mind registered the feel of his muscular arms around me. I pulled back a bit. "I'm fine now, I just feel a bit battered."

"What happened?" he repeated, staring at me with an intensity that was almost embarrassing.

I explained about his mind space, and the vines that defended his memory for some reason. "My Gryffindor side came out and I acted a bit rashly," I said, a little embarrassed.

"You tried to burn the bloody vines?!" Draco demanded.

"It was clear that the vines were the reason you can't access your memory. I simply hadn't anticipated how… violently they would defend it. I've never seen anything like it before," I said.

"But you said it scratched your arm," Draco said. "Why did you react like that?"

I thought for a moment. "Well, it wasn't my body that was attacked, as I wasn't physically there, I suppose. By that line of thinking it was really a bit of my mind that got injured."

"Well, no more. My memory isn't worth this," Draco said completely seriously.

"Excuse you, we're not giving up after a minor set back," I said, equally seriously.

"You were unconscious from a bloody scratch!" he exploded. "If you're paying the price then I don't want the memories. I… I can't…"

"Are you afraid of what you'll remember?" I asked gently.

"What? Merlin, no! From what you've told me about our childhood I used to be a complete toenail," Draco said with a degree of self-disgust. "I can't see you hurt again."

Draco's honest admission stunned me. When I had started thinking of him as "Draco" rather than "Malfoy"? That aside, when had Draco begun genuinely caring about me?

But that wasn't what was important at the moment. I crossed my arms. "I _will_ keep my promise to you to get your memories back."

"No, you won't," Draco growled.

"I made a mistake, I admit that," I said plainly. "But I swear this won't happen again. I've done this so many times for people who were obliviated that I foolishly rushed into your mind."

Draco glared at me. "No."

"You can't really stop me, but I appreciate the sentiment. I swear I won't do anything reckless while I search for how to fix this." At Draco's utterly unimpressed look I sighed. "To make it up to you we'll go to your funeral."

Draco's whole face lit up, but he quickly schooled his features into a look of disinterest. "Do you promise I'll never hear you screaming in pain like that again?"

"I screamed? I'm sorry, that must have been… unsettling," I said.

"It was awful," Draco said emphatically. "And the whose time I felt like I had heard it before, and it felt like my worst memory and nightmare come to haunt me at the same time."

Discreetly pulling the sleeve of my shirt farther down in an effort to cover at least some of my scars. I felt a twinge of guilt. "I can't make a promise about you never hearing that again, but I can promise that what happened today will never happen again. If it makes you feel better, I'm already a lot closer to finding a solution to your memory loss."

He stared at me. "You're lying. You must be."

"Excuse me?"

"How could you be closer to a solution when you spent most of this afternoon writhing on the floor?"

"I studied everything while I was still in your mind space. I think that you did this to yourself with a potion of your own design. I also don't think that blocking your memory was necessarily intentional. Notice I said 'blocking' your memory rather than 'erasing.' Your memory is still there."

"What?!" he shrieked. "I did this to myself?"

"It's the most interesting thing. It makes you completely immune to legillimency as well as the Imperius curse. My guess is that the potion was simply too strong and it began protecting your memories-even from yourself," I told him.

"I can see why I would want that," Draco said reluctantly. "But what I'm hearing is that I'm an idiot."

"Ah yes, you came up with a revolutionary potion, but slightly messed up the dosage," I said, completely deadpan. "You're a complete dunce, Draco Malfoy."

He sighed. "I'll just have to console myself with the fact that at least I wasn't incapacitated by shrubbery."

I raised an eyebrow. "Well, you must be okay with moving research forward if you're willing to tease me about it. But I would watch my back if I were you. My house has extensive gardens. You never know when my shrubbery might act up."

"You wouldn't."

With a smile, I rose to my feet. "I need to collect some ingredients to start working out a remedy."

"Hermione…" Draco said slowly, his voice laced with worry.

I smiled widely. "Remind me to show you around my gardens sometime. They're especially lovely this time of year."

* * *

 **A/N: Hello, lovely readers. I really need to get out of the habit of typing this past midnight. Apologies for any typos. This is a celebratory chapter for me because I just hit over one hundred pages in the word document I have this originally typed in. I honestly didn't think this story would continue for so long, but it just keeps growing. I'm really happy with how the story is going, so I've been taking care to find more time to write, even with both of my jobs.**

 **Thank you to everyone who followed and/or favorited this story, you have no idea how encouraging that is to me. As always reviews are especially helpful to me. As I've said from the beginning, this story is an experiment for me to improve my writing. Let me know what you liked, what could use some improvement, predictions for the future plot, etc., or even just if anyone is still reading. When I get responses of any kind, it truly makes me want to continue writing:)**


	21. Charming Nonsense

Chapter 21: Charming Nonsense

Draco stared at the green concoction that I was holding out to him. "I'm supposed to _drink_ that?"

"Unless you would rather warm it up and eat it like soup," I said, pushing the cup into his hands. Then I hesitated. "Full disclaimer, this won't work immediately. But first I want to make sure that this is what you want."

He blinked. "Are you asking if I want my memories?"

"Exactly. I don't know everything, but I know your life hasn't been an easy one," I said seriously. "It might be more painful for you to remember than not. I can't make that decision for you."

Without hesitation, Draco downed half the glass in a single swallow. "I won't hide from my past. I've lived this long with my memories, clearly I'm capable of handling them." He smirked. "Besides, once they're restored I can start flirting again. It's quite fun."

"You're impossible," I groaned, but a small piece of me had to admire the way he drank the concoction immediately. I knew there were a few memories I would be happy to forget.

Once the glass was empty Draco looked at me with the slightest mischievous glimmer in his eyes. "So, what now boss?"

"None of this boss nonsense. We need to come up with a suitable alias for you to attend your own funeral," I told him. "I have enough cause to go to your funeral, and I can say that I merely apparated back from America."

Draco clapped his hands together. "I could be the Minister for Magic!"

"No," I said immediately. "Besides, he'll probably be makes most sense to me is for you to pose as Hazel."

"You want me to be a girl?!" he demanded.

"It's misleading to anyone who might be looking for you, and as I'm supposed to be working with Hazel in America, it's logical for her to join me," I explained. "As the funeral is tomorrow our options are limited."

"I'll have you know I'm rubbish at American accents. I know because I tried it in America," Draco said almost smugly. "When I attempted an American accent Cora just laughed for ages."

"Well I doubt you can do a decent woman's voice either. That's why you won't be talking," I said with a smile.

"This simply isn't fair!" Draco exploded.

"Americans have a saying that I believe applies here: suck it up," I told him, patting his cheek. "Don't forget to put that cup in the sink."

As he did so, Draco commented, "I was pleasantly surprised. For as foul as that looked, it tasted quite good. Are you sure that was a cure?"

"It's a step towards getting your memory back," I said evasively. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to see Hazel about some hair."

After I flooed to Hazel's apartment, she kept me there entirely too long telling me what an honor it was to help me once again. In her excitement she nearly cut off half her hair, but I convinced her a single strand was plenty.

"Do you want to borrow a dress or something as well?" Hazel asked.

"That would be lovely, actually. Our sizes are just different enough that my clothes might look a bit odd," I said, grateful she had thought of it.

Despite the progress in our friendship, Hazel still acted flustered around me, and so she sent me back home with half of her closet in tow.

Once I apparated back to my house, I started apologizing for being gone for so long, but I froze mid-apology when I saw what Draco was doing.

"Did you stop and go shopping?" Draco asked, but his sarcasm was largely diluted by the fact that he sat in a blanket fort, eating peanut butter straight out of the jar, the floor littered with books, magical and muggle alike.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"After the first twenty minutes I got bored, so I found some books. Then I got hungry and I don't know how to cook, so I went into full survival mode."

I carefully laid Hazel's clothes across the couch. "Don't ever go camping alone. But I'm sure you can cook _something._ "

"See, I can remember what I can and can't do. I can remember half a dozen flying maneuvers I can do. When it comes to cooking it's simple; I can't," Draco said lazily.

"Well, we can fix that," I said with a wink. "By the way, that's officially your jar of peanut butter. Merlin knows what kind of germs you've got."

Draco looked quite satisfied with himself as he relished another spoonful of peanut butter. "So, what are all of those clothes for? Did you go shopping for the funeral?"

"No, these are for you to choose from to wear to the funeral, and don't you dare get peanut butter on any of these clothes," I warned him with a glare.

"But none of these are my color," Draco complained.

"I suppose I should be relieved that you've accepted that you'll be a woman at the funeral," I sighed.

"No, I really haven't, I just have priorities," Draco said, scooping out another heaping spoonful of peanut butter. "Your friend Hazel was lovely, but her fashion sense was lacking."

"Hazel dresses professionally, a lot like I do," I said, crossing my arms. "Are you insinuating something?"

"No no no," Draco said, wildly waving his spoon around. "Your clothes are posh. They fit well and the colors suit you. But you've always had some idea of good fashion, just remember the dress you wore to the Yule Ball our fourth year…"

Draco trailed off and we simply stared at each other, stunned.

Finally I burst. "You remembered something!"

He grinned. "I'll be flirting with you in no time."

Rolling my eyes, I did my best to snuff the hope beginning to spark in my chest. "IF you remembered the Yule Ball you must remember how annoying I was."

"I only remember wanting to hex Krum," Draco said confidently.

"You're mad. Put the peanut butter away, you're going to help me make dinner," I said sternly. "And I expect those books to be back on their shelves in the proper order when you're done."

He saluted me before climbing out of his fort. He proceded to prove that he did indeed have zero cooking ability, but he caught on quickly enough. Our only casualty was a hand towel that he somehow caught on fire. It was much less terrifying than the one time I let Ron anywhere near the kitchen.

As per usual, the thought of Ron instantly dampened my mood. My treacherous mind brought forth images of him happy with Rita and her terrible accent. Part of me could tell that Rita would bring years of misery, but right now he was happy while I still felt unwanted, broken.

Having just slid our dinner into the oven, Draco turned to me. Seeing my expression, he frowned. "What are you thinking of? You can't be sufficiently impressed with m newfound abilities if you're moping."

"Sorry, I was just thinking of something… foolish," I said. "It doesn't matter."

"It clearly does matter if it's bothering you this badly," Draco argued. "It's _him,_ isn't it? If you don't mind me asking, what is the story there?"

"Ronald and I were engaged," I said with a weary sigh. "I really did love him, and I like to think he loved me as well. I actually bought this house with our future family in mind."

"You bought the house for the two of you, but he didn't pay for any of it?" Draco asked, narrowing his eyes.

"He was supposed to, but he bought a new broom instead,' I said. "Anyway, before our engagement he would get annoyed with me, but he would never talk to me about it; instead he refused to speak to me for days at a time until he went and drunk himself silly. I had a lot of people telling me to break things off because he would regale the whole pub with stories of how horrible I was. I did confront him and it stopped. I was convinced that it meant that he was committed.

"So he proposed, and I said yes. But between how busy the ministry keeps me and the stress of planning a wedding we were constantly fighting. Then I would only go so far physically, and Ron took that completely the wrong way. Things started to go well between us until the day of our anniversary he announced that he was going to marry his favorite barista, who was pregnant."

Draco looked murderous. "Go on," he growled. "I can tell that's not the end."

"Well, the rest is really just me wallowing in self-pity," I said lightly. "The public had a field day. Ronald is still blacklisted from a lot of places. But as much as the public was mad at Ron, there were always whispers of how terrible I must have been to drive him away. There are also the people who would handle me with kid gloves. You can only be treated like you're broken for so long before you start to believe it. Thus ends my tragic story. Now I think that casserole is finished. Let's eat and forget that Ronald Weasley exists."

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," Draco said. "I've already got entirely too much time to plan which hexes I should use on Weasley the next time I see him."

"It's a good thing you're legally dead and have to stay in hiding," I said drily. "But let's talk a bit more about that moment you remembered."

Sadly Draco only remembered the image of me in my periwinkle dress and the emotions he was feeling at the time, but it was a start. I would take a half-memory within the first day. Afterwards dinner was lovely for the two of us. It was astonishing how much Draco and I had in common, and how much he could make me laugh. At one point I did snort water out of my nose, and he just said, "Have I told you you're the most gorgeous girl I know?"

I threw a balled up napkin at him. "Nonsense. Everything you say is nonsense."

"Charming nonsense," he said with a smirk. "But can we take a moment to appreciate how good this food is?Who knew I could manage to help make something edible?"

"Truly there are miracles," I said with a chuckle. "Keep that in mind when you're attending your own funeral."

* * *

 **A/N: I'm really not sure where this chapter came from, it just kind of happened, so I just went with it. Next chapter we'll see the funeral! A special thanks to everyone who followed and reviewed, it motivates me to write more than anything, knowing that other people find my story compelling.**

 **I hope everyone's summer is going amazing!**


	22. The Funeral

Chapter 22: The Funeral

"I already told you, these aren't my colors!" Draco shouted from the bathroom.

"Just put on the bloody skirt!" I shouted from my bedroom when I was doing my makeup.

He was silent for a few moments until I heard him quietly mutter, "So that's how that works. Merlin, bras are uncomfortable."

I bit my lip to keep from laughing outright as I pinned my hair up. For the funeral I took extra care on my appearance, debating on whether to put my hair up or not. I eventually decided to keep my hair down. Even after getting completely ready Draco still hadn't emerged from the bathroom.

With a sigh, I pounded on the bathroom door. "You're going to be late to your own funeral!"

Reluctantly Draco emerged disguised as Hazel, wearing a ghastly black pencil skirt and blazer, accented with salmon trim. He walked better in high heels than I had expected, possibly better than I could.

"By Merlin's baggy pants, everything women wear is a bloody torture device. Where am I supposed to put my wand?" he demanded.

"You'll figure something out. Now come on, we need to do your hair and makeup." I instructed.

Draco reluctantly obeyed, allowing me to pin his hair up in a simple chignon. As I bombarded his face with creams and powders, he recoiled. "This is cruel and unusual punishment!"

"This is just a natural makeup look," I said, daintily applying blush. "Now I need you to keep your eyes open and stay completely still, or I might accidentally stab your eye."

He looked paralyzed as I did his mascara. Afterwards, Draco (as Hazel) looked like he had barely escaped death. "I will never criticize a girl on her makeup again."

"If you're finished being dramatic we can leave and maybe get to your funeral on time. Remember, your name is Hazel, you work for MACUSA. You're supposed to speak as little as possible," I drilled him.

"I'm aware," Draco said, sounding incredibly British.

"This is a terrible idea," I said, massaging my temples. "Let's go."

We apparated to the gates of Malfoy Manor, where a mass of reporters clamored. Arm in arm with Draco/Hazel, I quickly spotted Harry drowning in the flook of reporters. I wasn't the biggest fan of reporters in the first place, but when I heard them obbing Harry with questions about his engagement right before a funeral, it made my blood boil.

Draco/Hazel in tow, I marched up to the flock of reporters and said scathinglhy," Excuse me, but Harry and I have a funeral to attend. Have some respect for the dead."

Slightly ashamed, the reporters eased up enough that Harry was able to extricate himself and slip through the gates.

"You're a lifesaver, 'Mione," Harry said. "I never would've gotten out of there without you."

"Don't mention it," I said, distractedly yanking Draco/Hazel away from where he was all but gawking at the other funeral goers.

"It's good to see you, Hazel," Harry said a bit reluctantly.

Draco's eyes immediately shot to me, panicked, but I cut in. "She's a bit overwhelmed by England. We should catch up at my house after the funeral, just the three of us."

Harry nodded seriously, catching the look in my eyes. We stood there a bit longer until Draco nudged me, urging us to move on.

"Yeah, just apparate to my house after the funeral," I said emphatically to Harry.

"Your house, not your flat. Got it," Harry said, waving before someone else lured him into a conversation.

All attendees of the funeral were milling about the gardens of Malfoy Manor, and it almost appeared that it was a social event. It was certainly a bit more lively than the few pureblood dinners and teas I'd witnessed.

Draco and I milled about, letting other people engage us in conversation. For the most part I simply whispered to Draco everyone's name and relationship to him.

"Miss Granger?" someone asked from behind me. I turned around to find Astoria Greengrass, her eyes red from a recent bout of crying.

"Miss Greengrass. It's nice to meet you at last. I only wish it had been under better circumstances," I said honestly.

Astoria was lovely in a delicate way, and she looked especially ephemeral in her heavy black mourning clothes. Her lip quivered. "I… I heard of your determination to protect Draco, and later to find him. They say that you were the only reason that they… that his body was found. You're a saint, Miss Granger. You devoted so much time to Draco despite his past actions. I just wanted to thank you."

"I only wish it had ended differently," I said, trying my best to sound genuine. Then, before we could continue our conversation, Astoria was called away.

Draco/Hazel stared after her. "Who was that?" he whispered to me.

"Astoria Greengrass. Your families have been trying to orchestrate a marriage between the two of you for years," I said quietly. "I don't know why it hasn't happened. Today is the first time I've ever met Astoria."

Draco watched Astoria intently enough that my chest felt a little tight, but I did my best to brush it off.

"Granger!" a voice just loud enough to be deemed inappropriate called.

I twirled around at lightning speed. "You are at a funeral, Zabini," I hissed. "Act respectful."

"Calm down, Granger. Half of the gits here are just anxious to see what will happen to the obscenely massive Malfoy fortune," Blaise said with a grin. Glancing at Draco/Hazel, he wrinkled his nose at what Draco was wearing. It was subtle enough that I probably would have been the only person who noticed.

"Regardless, that doesn't mean you get to act like this," I berated him. "If you do anything mildly disrespectful in front of the Malfoys I swear to Merlin I will enchant your office again."

"Fine, I'll behave. But stop being so rude and introduce me to your… friend," Blaise said.

"This is Hazel. You can officially meet her at my house right after the funeral because you and Harry are coming over," I said primly.

"Your house, not your flat?" Blaise asked.

"Exactly. You'll understand when you get there. Now go mingle. Did I see your mother here? I know she moved to France, but you might want to make sure she's not hunting for her next husband," I said.

Blaise followed my gaze and cursed. "I haven't talked to the woman in three years and she still manages to swoop in at the worst time possible. I'll be there, Granger. Mother! Mother, that man is still married."

At Draco's questioning look, I explained, "That's Blaise Zabini, your best friend. Zabini is also one of my closest friends since we've both worked at the Ministry."

"Is this another mudbl- muggleborn, friend of yours, Granger?" Pansy Parkinson interrupted, casually strolling up to us, full wine glass in hand.

"Pansy, making your parents as proud as ever I see," I said drily.

"Mother's been trying to convince me to tell everyone that Draco and I eloped the summer of our fifth year," Pansy said, swirling the wine in her glass. "But my parents made their bed, they can lay in it. That is the Muggle phrase, right? Anyway, I quite enjoy working, having a purpose other than looking pretty. But really Granger, who is this girl in the horrible outfit?"

Pansy worked in the mailroom of the Ministry, and we had built a strange friendship over the years after the war. Most of the time she took things a bit too far, but I secretly enjoyed her and her blunt honesty.

Now was one of those times, but I immensely grateful that the real Hazel wasn't here. Clearing my throat I said, "This is my friend Hazel. She's American, and we've been working together at MACUSA on some special projects."

"I remember hearing something about that. Well, I think I heard that they're starting the funeral soon. Now's the last chance to greet the Malfoys before the drudgery of Draco's inheritance becomes a topic of debate. You should go say hello," Pansy said before flouncing away in search of more wine.

I glanced at Draco. "Do you want to go give your condolences to your parents?"

He hesitated. "I would like to meet them, yes."

We worked our way towards the front of the garden where a white marble casket lay, flanked by Draco's parents. Both Lucius and Narcissa were standing stoically, looking almost as if they were carved out of the same marble as the casket. The only sign of emotion between the two of them was the occasional tear quickly swiped away by Narcissa. I didn't know why I was suddenly felt so nervous, but we were already almost to Narcissa. If I wanted to turn back, it would have to be-

"Miss Granger," Narcissa said, her eyes locking onto me. "I thank you for-"

"YOU MUDBLOOD WENCH," Lucius roared upon spotting me. "How _dare_ you show your face here after you let my son die."

"I only came to pay my respects, Mr. Malfoy," I said as evenly as I could. All other attendees were silent, watching the scene unfold before them.

At my small interjection, Lucius clenched his jaw, his face contorted with rage. I didn't see his hand coming before he slapped me hard enough that I saw stars.

A collective gasp sounded, and more than a few people leapt to my defense, but Lucius grasped my hair in an iron grip. "You probably knew my son was dead when you offered to help. How you would have enjoyed laying your mudblook hands upon Malfoy gold. I won't let it happen. Your dirty, conniving self won't taint our last memories of our son."

With every word Lucius Malfoy pulled his hair farther and farther down, my head snapping back painfully. Anxious witches and wizards watched, but none quite knew ho to intervene without harming me as well.

"Petrificus totalus."

Lucius Malfoy's body seized up, and the slim hand of his wife released my hair. When she released the spell on her husband, she slapped his as soundly as he had me.

"You're truly reprehensible, Lucius. Miss Granger is the only person who has spared more than two seconds searching for our son, and she's the only reason his body was found," Narcissa said quietly. "Draco once treated her as you do and she cared more than the entire Ministry. And somehow you made this about the bloody fortune!"

"Narcissa, I-" Lucius tried to interrupt.

"No! You will let me grieve my son," Narcissa hissed. "If I hear one more mention of the Malfoy fortune today, you will be promptly escorted away.

Narcissa spoke with authority, despite the tears streaming down her cheeks, unchecked. Composing herself a bit, she turned to me. "I am truly sorry, Miss Granger. If you wish to, I would love to have you, but if you would rather not I understand perfectly."

Everything stung. My head was spinning and there was a palpable tension surrounding me. I was undecided until my eyes landed on Draco , who was nearly vibrating with anger.

I swallowed a few times. "I really do wish to convey my deepest condolences." With that, I linked arms with Draco and apparated us to my house.

Draco immediately began examining my cheek. My scalp throbbed. But if Draco knew how much it hurt me he was liable to hunt down his father.

I smiled thinly. "I'm just going to use some muggle remedies: Tylenol and ice. But why don't we both change into comfortable clothes? Unless you want to wear that as Draco Malfoy."

That was all it took for him to rush to his room. Meanwhile I meandered to mine, slipping into sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt. I then sought my massive bottle of Tylenol and several ice packs.

Draco found me sprawled out on my couch. "How are you feeling?"

I shrugged. "I've been better."

"I know there are healing spells, why not use one?" he asked.

"Using them on one's self requires a great deal of concentration that I doubt I could muster right now," I explained. I sank into the couch, closing my eyes until his hand gently brushed mine.

"I… I know some healing spells," Draco said hesitantly. "If you want me to use one, that is."

His hesitation was simultaneously surprising and endearing to me. It did sting, but in all honesty I think it bothered him more than it did me. I gave him a quick nod.

Draco nodded back, apparently steeling himself. It was odd, because even though it was Hazel's face looking at me, I could almost see Draco. With a swish of his wand and a muttered spell, the pain disappeared."

I unconsciously raised my hand to my cheek. "Thank you."

Draco swallowed and I could see a complexity of emotions swimming in his eyes. I was almost fearful of the questions that would doubtlessly come.

"GRANGER, LOWER YOUR BLOODY WARDS!" came the voice of Blaise Zabini.

Just then Harry apparated into the living room with a pop. "Say the word Hermione, and I'll find a reason to arrest Lucius."

* * *

 **A/N: Hello, lovely readers, I'm back! I really apologize for any typos (of which I'm sure there are many). But here it is, the Funeral. Here's where the plot is starting to thicken some more, so please, let me know what you think! This story is turning into so much more than I expected.**

 **As always, follows and reviews inspire me to write. A quick shoutout to MaMia and luxaeterna22 for consistently reviewing, I enjoy seeing your reactions as the story progresses. I also appreciate all of my other reviewers like Doctor MisFire, gwenelle7, luvsbooks412, SalazarsMistress, and so many more. My jobs are starting to calm down, so I hope to start updating more regularly again, but we'll see what happens.**

 **Have a wonderful summer, everyone!**


	23. My Place

Chapter 23: My Place

Once I let Blaise in, it took me a good twenty minutes to convince them not to arrest or murder Lucius Malfoy. (I think I was also convincing Draco to a degree.) I had to break out tea and biscuits to adequately distract them all.

With a mouth full of biscuit, Blaise asked something unintelligible. Upon my admonishment, he swallowed and asked, "Are you closer to finding Malfoy? Is this American helping you?"

Delicately taking a sip and crossing his legs, in his most feminine (and American) voice, he said, "I'm determined to help Hermione however I can."

"That's Draco."

Blaise choked on his seventh biscuit while Harry spat tea on my rug.

Harry was the first to recover. "Polyjuice Potion?"

"Naturally."

Blaise shook an accusing finger at Draco. "I heard you ask her who I was, you git."

"Draco lost his memory," I said, trying to find the simplest way to explain the whole situation. "I've been working on retrieving it, but so far he's only remembered some odd bits and pieces. He mostly remembers how certain people made him feel."

"Is that why he wanted to go to his funeral?" Harry asked, pushing his glasses up. "To jog his memory?"

"No, he's just an arrogant git," I said with a small smile. "He just wanted to see everyone fawn over him."

"You wound me with your accuracy," Draco said, placing his hands on his chest. "But if I remember right, you're Harry Potter, ridiculously famous, savior of the world and whatnot. You're Blaise Zucchini? We're friends or something?"

Blaise's indignant gasp could be heard for miles. "How dare you, Draco Malfoy. You dare insult the Zabini name after wearing the worst outfit I've ever seen to a funeral?"

Draco launched himself to his feet. "You didn't see the other options," he hissed.

The two Slytherins looked ready to attack each other at the drop of a hat, but I simply groaned. "You're both pretty, ladies. Now can we focus on the real problems?"

"But this is more fun to talk about," Blaise pouted.

"Oh Merlin, it's exhausting just to have the two of you in the same room," I said. "Harry, please say something sensible before they drive me mad."

"I'm still wrapping my mind about Hazel actually being Malfoy," Harry said frankly. "I figured it would take a bit longer to actually find him."

"So did I."

After Draco and Blaise finally calmed down a bit, I explained everything that had gone on in Pocatello. The telling took quite a while because I was frequently interrupted with questions. Draco would occasionally add his piece of the story, but more often than not he had questions as well.

Blaise looked frustrated. "I'm sorry, but I don't fully accept that this is Draco Malfoy. Draco would never intentionally reveal that he didn't have important information. _Revelio."_

With a wave of Blaise's wand, Hazel's appearance melted away to reveal Draco Malfoy looking righteously offended. "How dare you question my moral integrity?"

"You don't even remember if you have moral integrity," I said, beyond the point of exasperation. "Draco has remembered a few details, we're making progress. I'm hoping that he might remember something that will help us against the Death Eaters. However, the most important thing is that Draco Malfoy is alive and safe. That was always the main goal, so I think a celebration is in order."

Draco looked surprised, but he didn't question it as I led all three men to the dining room to crack open a bottle of Firewhiskey.

The four of us laughed and chatted for hours, and the boys continued when I started preparing dinner. I was content to listen to Harry and Blaise regale Draco with memories from our collective days at Hogwarts, only slightly embellished.

I knew how horrid Draco had been as well as anyone. Harry and I had both experienced it firsthand. But Harry spoke lightly, telling stories like Draco being turned into a ferret, or about their ridiculous Quidditch rivalry. I watched with pride, impressed with the man Harry had grown up to be.

This continued until I set dinner on the table while Harry made quick work of setting out plates and forks.

"It looks great, Hermione," Draco said with a small smile.

Blaise snorted. "Jeez Hermione, did you put the whole rosemary bush on this chicken?"

"How are you enjoying your _free meal,_ Zabini?" Harry asked.

"Point taken," Blaise said. "Our conversation today has me curious, Granger. We Slytherins always had some grand scheme in the works. Hogwarts would've been incredibly boring without it. How did you two not go mad with all of your rule-following?"

I traded glances with Harry. "Does anyone actually believe we followed the rules?" he asked.

"That does seem to be the public perception," I said. "But from what you told me the Slytherin common room seems much less lively than ours."

"Good one, Granger, but no one outside of the Slytherin House has set foot in our common room for decades, not even the Headmaster," Blaise said.

"No one that didn't look like a Slytherin," Harry said suggestively. "But no one expects second-years to have access to Polyjuice potion. Your common room is a bit depressing."

Blaise choked on his pumpkin juice. "You did not. Did you bribe someone to smuggle it in for you?"

"No, Hermione made it in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom," Harry said proudly. "She stole the ingredients right from Snape's own store."

"As a second-year?" Blaise demanded. "Granger, I knew you were devious, but that is positively Slytherin of you. I didn't know you had it in you."

Draco was staring at me. "You made Polyjuice potion at twelve years old? There are adult wizards that can't make it."

"The true marvel is that Harry and Ron drank the stuff. Prepared wrong it's basically poison," I said lightly. "But I suppose we didn't have schemes so much as harebrained plans. We mostly spent our time trying not to die."

"We snuck out a lot," Harry recalled.

"Like when we visited that acromantula family with Hagrid," I said. "And then we almost got eaten by them."

"The year after we almost got eaten by Lupin when he was a werewolf." Harry thought a moment. "I think we almost got eaten every year we were in school."

"Sometimes it was just you, though," I reminded him. "The Hungarian Horntail was all yours. Although some years we almost got eaten multiple times."

We both thought deeply about this until Blaise exclaimed, "Merlin, your lives are twisted. How are you two alive? Do you have any _fun_ memories?"

Harry scratched his head. "Ron and I saved Hermione from that troll."

"I think he means memories where no one was about to die," I told Harry gently. "And I can't think of a single thing. But we had loads of fun once the war was over."

"Lasertag was my favorite," Harry said with a fond smile. "It's a Muggle game that you two should try one day."

Blaise sniffed. "Forgive me if I hesitate to trust your sense of 'fun.'"

"I would try it," Draco said, simply to egg Blaise on.

"Merlin's beard, is there no sense of self-preservation at this table? I can feel my lifespan dwindling as I sit here," Blaise complained.

"You forget, I was present for most of your time at university. You don't have a very strong sense of self-preservation given the right situations," I teased.

Blaise glared at me. "You better stop there, Granger, or this conversation will prove detrimental to both of us."

We laughed the rest of the night until I kicked Harry and Blaise about (after swearing them to total secrecy). Draco still sat at the table, zoning out a little.

I cleared all of the dishes away with a wave of my wand and looked at Draco, concerned. "Is everything okay?"

He glanced up, startled. "I was just… thinking."

"About?" I prompted.

He dropped his silver eyes to where his fingers were fiddling with the tablecloth. He hesitated before asking, "Is it always like this? Your dinners with friends and family, I mean

I didn't quite see what he was getting at. Keeping my voice light, I said, "Oh, sometimes they get a bit violent. Dinner at the Weasleys' often ends in food fights the second Molly turns her back."

"But… the laughter? Everyone actually wants to be there and listen to each other?" Draco asked, finally meeting my eyes.

I realized what he was getting at, and his expression broke my heart. "Draco," I said softly.

"I just…" Draco laughed, but it caught in his throat. "I remembered a few things during dinner, things like dinners at Hogwarts, or with my parents. I can say with almost complete surety that I've never had a dinner like this before. If we did talk or laugh it was at someone else's misfortune."

"It is hard," I acknowledged. "Finding somewhere you feel you belong is an ordeal. And as we grow, I think sometimes we have to find new places to blong. My place and my people were kind of pushed on me. There are only so many times you can almost die together before you start sticking together."

We stared intently into each other's eyes. I felt him place his hand on mine, warm and callused. When had we gotten so close?

"I think I'm finally starting to find my place," he whispered, leaning forward. I unconsciously leaned forward too, closer and-

"Granger, I forgot to ask," Blaise called from the front room of the house, opening the front door with a crash. Draco and I jerked apart, and there were at least two meters between us by the time Blaise wandered into the dining room.

"What did you forget?" I asked, wondering if I should be cursing him or thanking him.

"When will you be back in for work? Doing your reports is exhausting," Blaise said dramatically.

"I'll be back in three more days," I said, my voice a bit shaky. "Now get home before I drag you there myself."

After Blaise left, I couldn't force myself to meet Draco's eyes. Staring at my feet, I said, "Well, I'm exhausted, goodnight."

With that, I barricaded myself in my room and spent a sleepless night trying to understand my emotions.

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry about the longer wait on this chapter, work has been really hectic lately. As always let me know what you think, this is an experiment to improve my writing. As I typed it up I noticed that this chapter was really heavy on dialogue. Do you all think it's too much dialogue? And do you think that the plot is moving too slowly? There are a lot of things about writing that I'm still figuring out, and I appreciate every comment immensely. I love getting suggestions to work on, but even just knowing that people are still reading is incredibly helpful to me. It lets me know that I'm doing something right, at least.**

 **Thanks for reading! I'm going to be getting ready to move back to college pretty soon, so I can't say when to expect the next chapter. Have a great summer!**


	24. They Know

Chapter 24: They Know

The time for me to go back to work came all too soon. But it also came with an entire host of responsibilities and problems to further plague me.

My foremost problem was that of the rivalry between Crookshanks and Draco. Draco and I had decided to use my flat in the evenings so it looked like my life was continuing like normal, but at night we would apparate to my house, where Draco spent the day while I was at work.

We left Crookshanks at the flat the whole time, but the ginger cat was already upset about being left with Ginny for so long. Once he was deprived of his sleeping spot (curled at my feet), his mood was worse than foul, and he took it out on Draco. This meant that for the first week of this arrangement, whenever Draco was within two meters of my cat, he transformed into a hissing ball of fluff. I found myself frequently healing Draco's "battle wounds."

Luckily catnip works just as well on cats that are part kneazle, if not better. I concocted some cat treats for Draco to feed Crookshanks, and they had progressed to the point that Draco could sit on one end of the couch with Crookshanks on the other with no bloodshed. I wondered if Draco would ever be able to pet Crooks, but then I hurriedly reminded myself that Draco was only here temporarily.

Draco himself was my next biggest concern. In true Malfoy style, he had adjusted my home to his preferences, and he simply left the changes to make him more comfortable, or in the case of his ghastly redecorating, I merely changed things back to their former state (and color). However, the moment he changed the order of my books, I "descended on him with the wrath of Morgana herself," according to him.

He still acted ludicrous, and insisted on trailing behind me like a devoted puppy whenever I was home. However, as more and more memories returned, Draco lost his lightness and happiness, bit by bit. It was like each memory weighed him down a bit more.

Talking through his memories with me seemed to help at least a little bit, so each night we did just that. I could tell that there were things he refused to tell me about, determined to bear it alone.

Sometimes what he remembered seemed to be triggered by something he saw or experienced, but often what he remembered was totally random, his mind spitting out various things with no rhyme or reason.

I contemplated briefly what I would do if Draco once again became the person I had known at Hogwarts, but I brushed the thought away. In this situation I had learned to simply take things as they came. Regardless, I had a feeling that the Draco I had known was gone, with or without his memories.

Today when I got to my flat, I dropped my purse and called, "Work was a bit grueling. Would you mind if we ordered out today? Come to think of it, do you know what ordering out is?"

The flat was deathly silent, save for Crookshanks crunching his food. In that moment I swear my heart skipped a beat. "Draco?" This time even Crooks was silent. I swallowed. "He probably lost track of time and hasn't apparated over yet. Yeah, Draco is probably stuck in a book. There's no way Death Eaters would be able to abduct him without my knowing."

I apparated to my house, but the apparition wasn't the only reason my stomach was twisted in knots. I tried to keep my panic out of my voice as I called, "Draco? Draco!"

Briskly walking through each room, I scanned for Draco until I found myself at his bedroom door. Something told me that he was in there, and he needed me. Hesitantly I knocked.

He didn't respond, but I slowly opened the door anyway. I found Draco on the ground holding his head between his knees. Before I had even fully registered it, I was on my knees next to him, checking him for injuries. "Are you okay? What happened?" I asked frantically.

Draco slowly raised his head, and to my shock I found him crying. His silver eyes were red as tears traced paths down his cheeks. "How can you stand being in the same room as me?"

"What are you talking about?"

"She tortured you," he said violently. "She tortured you and I just stood back and let it happen."

I had forgotten that he had been in the room during that. Really, I just remembered Bellatrix's laughter as well as pain, so much pain. Unconsciously my hand traced the letters she had carved into my skin.

And Draco noticed. He hunched farther into himself, self-loathing clear on his face. "I should be rotting in Azkaban right now, or I should have let the Death Eaters kill me." Draco laughed darkly. "I guess I'll be a coward until the end."

I didn't know what to say or how to say it. The world was spinning out of control, so I clambered to my feet and held out a hand to him.

He looked at me plaintively, obviously still contemplating all of the reasons I had to hate him. Finally he put a hand in mine, allowing me to pull him to his feet. I gently tugged him into my bedroom where I pushed aside the rug to pry up one of the floorboards.

Underneath the floorboard sat a gleaming wooden box that I carefully extracted. My fingers sifted through the contents until I found a letter that was worn across the creases from being folded and unfolded time and time again.

"Not even Harry has seen this," I said quietly. "After the war I struggled a lot. Everyone held me up as a hero, and so many people were lost… I couldn't make sense of the world anymore. But people wanted me to be happy, they _needed_ me to be happy. It felt as if the Golden Trio could relax and enjoy life again, then it was okay for everyone else to start living again.

Draco was silent, staring at me.

"I had so many anxiety attacks. The magical world still has a long way to come in terms of mental health; the wizarding world would probably call it an emotional breakdown. But I digress. I was barely hanging on by a thread most of the time. One day I spoke at a commemoration or something of the sort. I managed to scrape myself together at the beginning, but as I spoke, I started falling apart.

"I was a mess, but I saw you in the crowd, looking almost as smug and pretentious as the day I met you. That made me _furious_." Somehow Draco looked even more miserable, so I rushed on. "I focused on being so angry at you that I delivered the speech perfectly. Afterwards I was determined to lecture you right then and there.

"But once I got close to you I could see that your hands were shaking and your eyes were… vulnerable. You tried to smirk at me, then you shoved this letter into my hands and ran away."

Handing him the letter, I watched various emotions play across his face as he read his ow words.

"I would have helped you regardless of this because I believe every person deserves a second chance. But with this letter I didn't hesitate. People change, even Draco Malfoy. You remembered one of your worst memories, and I suffered htat day. But I forgave you for that years ago because I needed to, but I've also seen your sincerity in wanting to change. You're not the villain you paint yourself as, Draco. In some ways, you were also a victim."

Draco sniffed, looking slightly appeased, but still overly emotional. "Now I know why you stopped me from flirting with you."

In a completely uncharacteristic move, I lightly kissed his cheek. "I stopped you from flirting because I wanted both of us to know what we were getting into." Then I sashayed from the room.

Luckily Draco took a while to follow me, because I was blushing furiously. What was that? I didn't make romantic advances. I had had exactly one relationship my entire life, and it had taken many years to develop. What on earth had possessed me?

I walked briskly to the garden to give me a few moments before I had to face Draco after my incredibly brash decision. I was simultaneously relieved and disappointed when he didn't follow. Maybe he remembered how much he despised me, or how much of a know-it-all I had been. I wilted more than my poor begonias I had neglected.

My house suddenly seemed daunting, almost as daunting as it had been when Ron had broken off our engagement. I was psyching myself up to go back inside when Draco burst out of the house. He looked around wildly before launching himself at e.

"Was that a farce?" he asked urgently. "Did you actually mean all of that?"

"Do you think I would play with your emotions?" I asked, a little hurt.

"No, I believe you, but the flirting part! Are you really okay with that?" he asked.

I blushed a little but ignored it. "Well yeah, I-"

My words were cut off when Draco pulled me forward, pressing his lips to mine. It was a brief, gentle kiss, but it was more intense than anything I'd ever felt before. It was… emotional, as both of our emotions were turbulent at best, a whirlpool of positive and negative feelings both trying to suck us under. But it was perfect.

Draco pulled back all too soon. "I don't want you to think I'm pressuring you into anything or taking things too quickly. I think we were raised with similar… traditional values. I just couldn't help myself, because I'm fairly certain I've wanted to do that longer than either of us realize. I've wanted _you._ "

Meeting his eyes, I bit my lip. "I believe you. But if you toy with my emotions I will curse you worse than you can imagine."

His lips quirked up into a smile. "I should be terrified, but I'm even more attracted to you right now."

I shoved him away. "You're mad."

"Mad for you," he said with an obligatory eyebrow wriggle.

"Merlin, maybe I'm the mad one," I groaned, but I hesitated. "You're okay if we take things slowly?"

He nodded. "We both have things to overcome. In the meantime we'll try our hands at saving the world. But you're already an expert…"

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I had to keep myself from reaching for my wand. "You're really impossible. But you're right, let's do some investigating in our free time. As for tonight, we're getting takeout. Do you have any preference for what kind of food we have?"

Draco perked up. "What's takeout?"

"In the Muggle world, certain restaurants offer to deliver food to your door for a small fee. I'm feeling a bit tired tonight and I thought it might be a fun experience for you," I said. "We can get pizza, fish and chips, Chinese…"

"What did you say first?" he asked.

"Pizza? I guess that when it is served in the wizarding world it's branded as Muggle food. So I doubt you've had it. But it's pretty universally liked. Do you want to try it?"

"Yes…" he said, although he clearly wanted to say more.

"What else do you want?"

He did his best to look pitiful. "I've never been in a Muggle restaurant before…"

"Fine, but you have to be disguised. And you can't gawk at things or ask any questions until we've left the restaurant," I said firmly.

"So yes?" he asked brightly.

"Start disguising yourself," I said. "We'll apparate to my flat and walk to the pizzeria."

It's amazing, really, how often helping Draco felt a bit like babysitting. Taking him to the pizzeria felt extraordinarily like the time I took Arthur Weasley with me to an appliance store. But I do admit it was far more endearing than Arthur Weasley in an appliance store.

Draco, transfigured to look like an "emo" teenager (something he had seen a lot of in America) was bouncing off the walls in the pizzeria. I ended up getting two pizzas, because he insisted on getting an anchovy and mushroom pizza, despite all of my protests. I made him carry the abomination to my flat, knowing that Crookshanks would eat well tonight.

Once we got to my floor, Carol popped her head out of the door. "Oh, Hermione dear. I was just coming over to chat with you. How was your work trip?"

"It was… productive," I told her. "I accomplished nearly everything I had hoped to."

"That's wonderful, dear. I must have you over for dinner sometime soon. Charles can tell you all about the new building he's working on. Oh, and I nearly forgot. Is everything alright? I poked my head out because I heard a rather loud pop and then a larger crash coming from your flat," Carol said, concerned.

My heart began beating a bit faster, but I managed a calm face for Carol."It was probably the cat. He makes such messes when I'm gone for too long. Thanks Carol."

I smiled as Carol invited me to dinner once more, but it disappeared once she went back into her flat. I readied my wand, telling Draco, "Stay behind me."

Carefully opening the door, I stepped in. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I found a bleeding figure collapsed on my kitchen floor.

I crouched next to him. "Blaise! Are you okay?"

"Granger," he said, though it sounded more like a moan. "They know."

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry for the long wait! I think this is the longest chapter yet, and it's a really important one. What do you all think? I'm trying to work on my romantic and suspenseful scenes, and this chapter ended up with both. Any opinions, or tips?**

 **I apologize for any typos in this chapter. My niece got ahold of my notebook and a pencil and drew some lovely scribbles all over this chapter, so it was kind of hard to tell what I had written. The rest of the summer is a little crazy for me, so I can't promise that I'll be able to update once a week, but I'll try my best. Follows and reviews are always a huge motivator for me to write. See you next chapter!**


	25. Only Hope

Chapter 25: Only Hope

"They know," Blaise repeated again and again. His face was bruised nearly beyond recognition.

Draco stared at the scene, completely shocked. I didn't have the luxury of comforting anyone, I had to act, _now._ I levitated Blaise into my bedroom and onto my bed, then began stripping his shirt to further assess his injuries.

I was able to get the bleeding under control with no problem, but Blaise had clearly been a victim of the Cruciatus curse. If I didn't intervene immediately then he would suffer the same fate as Neville's parents. I had a very small window to help Blaise.

"Listen," I told Draco, gripping my wand. "I'm doing something similar to what I did to you when I figured out why your memories are blocked, but this is more dangerous. I'm going deeper into his mind. If I don't, we might lose Blaise as we know him. I just have to let you know, there's a chance I might not make it back from his mind."

"You can't!" Draco said, grabbing my hand. "Please, Hermione."

I smiled sadly. "I'm his only hope."

It killed me to do it, but I ripped my hand from Draco's, and with the spell I was plunging farther into Blaise Zabini's mind than I had ever gone in any mind before. The Cruciatus Curse was Unforgivable because the pain was so unbearable that it drove the victim into the innermost parts of their mind to escape it. But when people flee that deep into themselves, the mind shuts down to protect the victim, and it leaves the victim locked inside themselves, away from the world forever.

Blaise's Mind Space was set up like a street, with a variety of buildings that each contained some sort of party or social event. Some were welcoming, others exuded hostility and discomfort. I noted one in particular that was undeniably a Muggle rave. I would have to ask him about it later.

Carefully examining the different compartments of his mind, I found myself pushing forward into a moderately sized mansion (if there was such a thing). It was a slightly smaller scale of the typical pure-blood family mansions, not really extravagant in any way.

The door creaked open, and I winced at the sound. I was feeling incredibly unsettled. I didn't even know what was in the innermost depths of _my_ mind, and now I was simply strolling into Blaise's mind without permission.

I walked into a tasteful parlor, lit and warmed by a fire that created a homey atmosphere. The occupants of the room didn't take notice of me, they were entirely too wrapped up in their little gathering. Blaise, younger than I had ever known him sat with an extremely younger version of his mother and a man that looked so much like Blaise that he _had_ to be his biological father.

Over the years of our friendship, Blaise had told me a bit about his various stepfathers, but he had never told me of his biological father. A part of me was happy that Blaise had at least some memory of a father that loved him, but it killed me that I had to rip him away from this, his happiest memory.

I watched Blaise's father animatedly read to the little family. Before I interrupted I vowed to myself that I would see Blaise as happy as he had been all those years ago.

Swallowing, I cut off Mr. Zabini. "Blaise, it's time to go."

As one, the silent family turned to look at me. Young Blaise asked, "Who are you?"

"I'm your friend, Know-It-All Granger," I said with a small smile. "But I really need you to come with me, Blaise."

Behind me, the front door began to swing shut. Somehow I knew that if it closed completely, Blaise would be locked within this portion of his mind, and I would possibly be locked in with him.

"I want to stay," Blaise said petulantly.

The door swung shut a few more inches.

"I'm sorry," I told Blaise sincerely. Before he could realize what was happening, I grasped the child under his armpits and threw both of us out of the door.

We hit the ground _hard,_ but mere moments later the door swung completely shut behind us.

"No, I want back!" Blaise yelled, flailing. I let the child go after a sharp elbow hit me in the ribs. "I want my parents!" he wailed.

"They're gone," I whispered. "I'm so sorry."

"No!" He screeched, clearly working his way up to hysterics.

Grabbing his shoulders, I forced him to still. "I'm so sorry Blaise, but we can't do this. I know it hurt. I know you really just want to hide from all of the pain. But I need you now. Remember that we're friends. Remember Draco, and Pansy, and that Muggle girl that was in love with you when you would visit me at my University. Please don't leave all of the people that love you. Remember us, Blaise."

The child blinked rapidly, but each time I saw more and more of the Blaise I knew. With a gasp, he grabbed my arm. "Granger, they used legillimency. I fought, but the Death Eaters know Malfoy is with you. Take him and run. Go somewhere out of the country. Save yourselves."

"What else did they do to you?" I demanded, furious on his behalf.

"Nothing I won't recover from, thanks to you," he said, trying to shove me away.

"Just one more thing in case we never see each other again," I said. Embracing the child, I continued, "I know you'll find someone who makes you as happy as your parents were."

With that I released the spell, but even the short period of time I had spent deep in Blaise's mind was affecting me. It felt like I was ripping myself from the trap of his mind, and like I was losing part of myself in the process. Back in my own body, my head throbbed, and my mind just felt… battered.

"Death Eaters got to him," I told Draco, shutting my eyes to block out the excessively bright lights. "I need you to go to the house and start collecting clothes, food, anything useful for both of us. It will fit in here," I said, thrusting my beaded bag at him. "I'll take Blasie to St. Mungo's."

When I grasped Blaise's hand, it was cold. Luckily with my medical training, I knew how to apparate with an unconscious patient in tow.

Staggering a bit from the feeling of apparartion on top of my headache, I dragged Blaise to the nearest cot in the wing that dealt with mental afflictions.

The Healer on duty frowned. "Ma'am, you can't just occupy whichever beds you please."

I flashed her my healing license. "Hermione Granger, this is an emergency. This man was attacked by Death Eaters. He has some severe physical injuries that need to be taken care of, but his attackers used the Cruciatus Curse extensively so I need you to monitor his mental state carefully to ensure he makes a full recovery.

The Healer snapped a salute. "Yes ma'am."

I listed Blaise's full medical information before telling the Healer seriously, "I'm trusting you with one of my closest friends. Make me proud."

She couldn't do anything more than squeak before I apparated away.

Alone at my apartment, I scanned for anything we might need. Finding nothing vital, I picked up my phone, dialing Harry's number with trembling fingers. As I expected, I got his voicemail.

"Harry, I need you to take care of Crooks and Archimedes for a while. Blaise was attacked, and he's in St. Mungo's right now. Please check on him for me, and leave me out of the crime report. And if I don't see you again…" my voice choked up a bit. "I'm so proud of you, Harry. You've become the greatest man I know. You'll be the best husband and father, so don't worry a bit. You're the best of us and I want you to have the best life. I'm saying 'best' a lot, aren't I? I just want you to know that the day you came to save me from that troll was the luckiest day of my life. I don't regret one second of being your friend."

Turning off the cell phone, I placed it on my kitchen table and left my apartment for what might be the last time.

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry, this update is late and short. I just moved back to college and I've gotten almost no sleep for like a week because anxiety. Oh well. It's not my best writing, but I hope you all still enjoy it! Things should settle down a bit once I get into a routine and know what to expect out of my schedule. I have a professor that advised us to go sniff a tree when we're feeling stressed, or when you're frustrated, or have writer's block. It sounds a little crazy, but maybe I'll go try tree-sniffing.**

 **I hope everyone is having a great time with what little summer they have left! Let me know how I can improve my writing, this was a big chapter and I would love suggestions of how I could improve it. Follows and reviews are always a huge help to me!**


	26. Too Much Time on a Bus

Chapter 26: Too Much Time on a Bus

I found myself knocking on Carol's door, an envelope in hand. Part of me wished she wouldn't answer just so I could stay just a bit longer.

"Hermione, dear, how are you? Did your cat knock over anything too important?" Carol asked.

"Oh no," I said with a weak smile. "But I have to travel again for my job. It was a surprise, so I don't have anything prepared. My friend Harry is going to take care of things for me, so I wondered if you could give this to him when he stops by."

"Absolutely. Goodness gracious, your job must really keep you busy," Carol said.

I nodded. "Thank you so much, Carol."

As soon as she went back into her flat, I pulled out my wand. I cast every protective spell I could think of on Carol's flat, and I could only hope that it would be enough of a deterrent that the Death Eaters would merely pass it by.

I had hoped I wouldn't need to, but I had made a plan for this very possibility. Now was time to put it into action.

When I apparated to my house, I found that the wards hadn't been tampered with, but it was just a matter of time before Death Eaters came barging in.

I found Draco in the library, clearly debating over several different books. Despite how terrible reality was, I found myself smiling. "You can bring both."

Draco startled, but smiled shakily. "I think I will. I was just… remembering. I remember seeing you with these books quite a lot."

I looked at the books and was surprised to see my copies of _Hogwarts: A History_ and _The Tales of Beetle the Bard._ The two were easily the most worn books I owned, and Draco had noticed. Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I said, "Let me see the bag for a moment."

He handed it over, and I managed to transfigure the small, beaded bag into a black fanny pack.

Draco looked at it distastefully. "What is that?"

"It's called a fanny pack. It's the height of Muggle fashion," I lied, offering it to Draco. "It clips around your waist."

He furrowed his brow. "Clips?"

"Oh, I forgot that wizard clothes don't really have buckles like this. Let me show you."

We spent too much time simply enjoying our last moments like this, moments that we could pretend life was normal. But every moment that we waited put Draco at a higher risk of being found.

I was indecisive at fist. One way or another, this was going to come to a fight; I could feel it in my bones. I was as prepared as I could be, which was already more prepared than I had been during the war.

It would be enough. It had to be.

How to travel had been a long, hard debate for me for quite a while. When it finally came down to it, I apparated us to a very rural town in Canada where I managed to get a ride to the nearest large city. The person giving us the ride was a Muggleborn who headed the Canadian sect of the golden trio's fan club.

From that larger city, Draco and I boarded a Greyhound bus to Anchorage, Alaska. As we boarded the bus, I could tell Draco was excited to experience his first bus ride. Vehicles in general seemed to fascinate him. I just hoped he could retain some of his wonder after spending an eternity on a Greyhound.

Eyes bright with excitement, Draco was practically bouncing in his seat. "So this moves all by itself? It's not pulled or pushed by anything?"

"No, it's a machine like the Hogwarts Express, just not magical. It runs on fuel," I said, feeling the questioning eyes of the people in front of us. Smiling thinly, I told the couple, "He's recently reformed Amish. It's his first bus ride."

The couple nodded in understanding, and before they turned back, the man said, "My daughter has an Amish friend."

I launched into a ridiculously long explanation of how vehicles work. It was by no means a full explanation, but Draco seemed to hang off of every word.

He asked me about more and more muggle things, anywhere from technology to… cultural aspects of muggle life. I explained things as well as I could, but sleepless nights were beginning to catch up with me. Before I realized it was happening, my eyes closed, and I drifted off to sleep.

This time around I didn't dream. Instead, as I slept I simply felt an overwhelming sense of peace and safety. It also smelled like a forest of fir trees.

I found myself curling up more, asking in the serenity that enveloped me. I stayed just like that for as long as I could stretch out my nap, and even then I kept my eyes closed a little longer, unwilling to leave my unexpected haven.

Finally the call to wake was too strong. I opened my eyes to see hints of sunlight beginning to wake the world around us. My head was leaning up against something firm and warm Gently moving my head, I found myself nestled against Draco's chest, with his arms keeping me from escaping.

Fully aware of my situation, I felt my face turn bright red, radiating heat. I tried to formulate a way to extricate myself from his arms without waking him. Before I could though, he mumbled, "Stay, Hermione."

At his voice I froze, slightly mortified. "How long have you been awake?"

Draco cracked a single silver eye open. "Long enough to know you'd be embarrassed. We're running for our lives, Granger, you're allowed to relax for a moment, Especially if it means cuddling with me."

"You're terrible," I mumbled into his chest.

"You really should have expected something like this when you stuck us together on this bus for so long," he grinned.

I smiled, but it didn't last long. "We're almost there, so let me warn you. I'm taking you to a place where they can help you safely regain all of your memories. My method is working, they can just offer some… alternate methods."

Draco finally let me go, but part of me (most of me) missed his arms around me. I sat up straight, trying to assess the state of my hair.

"I trust you," he said abruptly. "I know you'll do everything you can to keep me safe."

Exhaling a breath I hadn't realized I was holding, I smiled back at him. "I'm glad."

Looking at me earnestly, he said, "I hope one day you can come to trust me too."

An unexpected giggle broke free. "I wouldn't kiss someone I didn't trust."

HE said it with much the same attitude that one would throw down a gauntlet. Before I could talk myself out of it, I darted forward and pecked him on the lips. Then I whispered, "We remember that differently then."

Draco was stunned for a moment before he blushed bright red and looked away. "You can't just do that! I wasn't ready."

"You practically dared me to! I am a Gryffindor, after all," I said, feeling my face turn equally red. "Besides, we're adults. I don't know why you're acting so shy."

"I don't know!" he said, sinking into his chair. "All I can say is that I'm glad that you're a better kisser than Pansy Parkinson."

Grinning wickedly, I raised an eyebrow. "You remember snogging Pansy Parkinson?"

"I remember feeling disgusted after kissing Pansy Parkinson," Draco hurriedly corrected.

I smiled faintly. "I'll believe you this time. Just please never go into detail about your past relationships."

Draco wriggled his eyebrows. "Getting all hot and bothered?"

"How do you feel knowing that Ron was a really sloppy kisser? Honestly, sometimes it felt like I was kissing the giant squid from Hogwarts, especially when-"

"Point taken," Draco interrupted. "Let's never talk about any of this again."

"Agreed," I said, "We're pulling into our bus stop."

"We finally get to leave this cursed vehicle?" Draco asked.

"Yep."

While Draco celebrated, I began gathering our things back into the fanny pack that was once my beaded bag.

At the bus stop, Draco stared wearily at a seemingly homeless old man that was lounging across one of the benches. His hair was matted and dirty enough that it was impossible to determine what color it actually was. He wore sweatpants a few sizes too big that looked like they were in jeopardy of falling off at any moment, while his t shirt was a size too small. The size of the shirt was inconsequential as it was so tattered that it could barely be considered a shirt any longer.

Draco tensed. "That beggar is staring at us. Be ready to fight."

With a sigh, I steeled myself to walk over to the man. "Martin, could you try to look at least halfway decent?"

"Not in public," he said in a surprisingly silky voice. "Follow me."

Draco looked incredibly worried as he trailed after me to Martin's car.

I sighed. "Must you flaunt the Porsche every time I visit?"

"We have to spend more time in a vehicle?" Draco groaned.

"This is going to be a lot nicer than the bus," Martin promised. "And yes, Granger, I do have to flaunt the Porsche for you. I'm still determined to get you to work with me."

Settling into the incredibly comfortable passenger seat, I tried to keep my face impassive. "I'm sorry, but I can't deal with this disguise, it's positively putrid."

"I nearly forgot." Procuring his wand, Martin mumbled a few words and his features melded from dirty homeless man to a man with fantastic hair and piercing green eyes. It was a face that more than a few girls had fallen for in university.

Twisting in his seat, he stuck a hand out to Draco. "Ian Martindale, pleasure to meet you. I'm sure Hermione has told you all about me."

Draco stared Martin down warily. "She's never mentioned you."

"I am truly wounded, Granger. You really should tell your friends about your future partner," Martin said dramatically.

Massaging my temples, I said, "Draco, meet Martin. We went to university together, and he used his intelligence to start a wildly successful business, which he wants me to join as well. But I won't, because I'm trying to use my life to do good, not get rich."

"You could do both with me! You're too good for the Ministry of Magic, they don't appreciate you nearly enough. Speaking of people not appreciating you, congratulations on escaping marriage with Weasley. He was always an idiot, and Hermione Weasley just sounds like a crime against humanity," Martin said smoothly.

Draco nodded sagely. "I think I might like this guy. He's got a good head."

I rubbed my temples again. "I have a bad feeling about this."

* * *

 **A/N: Hey, I'm alive! Things have been completely insane for me lately. My college classes are kicking my butt this semester, I just got a job, and I wrote like five essays in this last week alone. I also lost my notebook for a while and didn't have time to rewrite the chapter, but I found it and all is well! This chapter isn't my finest, but hopefully you guys still like it. As always reviews and follows are greatly appreciated (and when I get an email to notify me it reminds me that I should be writing). For once I'm not typing or posting this at an absurd time of night, but there probably are a few typos because I recently got a kitten who really enjoys walking on my laptop when I'm using it.**


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